SOCIAL LIFE

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In this chapter we can make a large use of contemporary literature. Thus, the first consideration in treating of the manners and customs of the people is naturally the position of the wife and the consideration shown to her. I do not think that in any country could either the position of the wife or the consideration for her surpass what was then in vogue in London. This point Emanuel van Meteren, writing in 1575, makes abundantly clear, even while he contends the exact opposite, viz. that the wife is entirely in the power of the husband. For he shows that whatever the law may be—he does not quote the law—the practice is that the wife has entire liberty; and custom, i.e. public opinion, against which no husband would dare to move, secures her that liberty. This is what he says:—

“Wives in England are entirely in the power of their husbands, their lives only excepted. Therefore when they marry, they give up the surname of their father and of the family from which they are descended, and take the surname of their husbands, except in the case of duchesses, countesses, and baronesses, who, when they marry gentlemen of inferior degree, retain their first name and title, which, for the ambition of the said ladies, is rather allowed than commended. But although the women are entirely in the power of their husbands except for their lives, yet they are not kept so strictly as they are in Spain, or elsewhere. Nor are they shut up, but they have the free management of the house or housekeeping, after the fashion of those of the Netherlands and others their neighbours. They go to market to buy what they like best to eat. They are well-dressed, fond of taking it easy, and commonly leave the care of household matters and drudgery to their servants. They sit before their doors, decked out in fine clothes, in order to see and be seen by the passers-by. In all banquets and feasts they are shown the greatest honour; they are placed at the upper end of the table, where they are the first served; at the lower end they help the men. All the rest of their time they employ in walking and riding, in playing at cards or otherwise, in visiting their friends and keeping company, conversing with their equals (whom they term gossips) and their neighbours, and making merry with them at child-births, christenings, churchings, and funerals; and all this with the permission and knowledge of their husbands, as such is the custom. Although the husbands often recommend to them the pains, industry, and care of the German or Dutch women, who do what the men ought to do both in the house and in the shops, for which services in England men are employed, nevertheless the women usually persist in retaining their customs. This is why England is called the Paradise of married women. The girls who are not yet married are kept much more rigorously and strictly than in the Low Countries. The women are beautiful, fair, well-dressed and modest, which is seen there more than elsewhere, as they go about the streets without any covering either of mantle, hood, veil, or the like. Married women only wear a hat both on the street and in the house; those unmarried go without a hat, although ladies of distinction have lately learnt to cover their faces with silken masks or vizards, and feathers,—for indeed they change very easily, and that every year, to the astonishment of many.”

If this was the ordinary life of the London merchant’s wife, the following is the contemporary ideal (Gervase Markham):—

“Next unto her sanctity and holiness of life, it is meet that our English Housewife be a woman of great modesty and temperance, as well inwardly as outwardly; inwardly, as in her behaviour and carriage towards her husband, wherein she shall shun all violence of rage, passion and humour, coveting less to direct than to be directed, appearing ever unto him pleasant, amiable and delightful; and tho’ occasion of mishaps, or the mis-government of his will may induce her to contrary thoughts, yet vertuously to suppress them, and with a mild sufferance rather to call him home from his error, than with the strength of anger to abate the least spark of his evil, calling into her mind, that evil and uncomely language is deformed, though uttered even to servants; but most monstrous and ugly, when it appears before the presence of a husband; outwardly, as in her apparel, and dyet, both which she shall proportion according to the competency of her husband’s estate and calling, making her circle rather strait than large; for it is a rule, if we extend to the uttermost, we take away increase; if we go a hair’s breadth beyond, we enter into consumption; but if we preserve any part, we build strong forts against the adversaries of fortune, provided that such preservation be honest and conscionable; for as lavish prodigality is brutish, so miserable covetousness is hellish. Let therefore the Housewife’s garments be comely and strong, made as well to preserve the health, as to adorn the person, altogether without toyish garnishes, or the gloss of bright colours, and as far from the vanity of new and fantastick fashions, as near to the comely imitation of modest matrons. Let her dyet be wholesome and cleanly, prepared at due hours, and cook’d with care and diligence, let it be rather to satisfie nature, than her affections, and apter to kill hunger than revive new appetites; let it proceed more from the provision of her own yard, than the furniture of the markets; and let it be rather esteemed for the familiar acquaintance she hath with it, than for the strangeness and rarity it bringeth from other countries.

To conclude, our English Housewife must be of chaste thoughts, stout courage, patient, untired, watchful, diligent, witty, pleasant, constant in friendship, full of good neighbourhood, wise in discourse, but not frequent therein, sharp and quick of speech, but not bitter or talkative, secret in her affairs, comfortable in her counsels, and generally skilful in the worthy knowledges which do belong to her vocation.”

But to set against this is the testimony of the Elizabethan satirist Philip Stubbes.

The principal occupation of the women, he tells us—their daily life—is to lie in bed till nine or ten in the morning; to spend two hours in dressing themselves; then to go to dinner; then, “their heads pretely mizzeled with wine,” they walk abroad for a time; or they sit at their open doors showing their braveries to passers-by; or they pretend business in the town and carry a basket, “under what pretence pretie concerts are practised.” Or again they have those gardens in the fields outside already alluded to, whither they repair with a boy and a basket and meet their lovers.

A WOMAN’S DAY
“Daily till ten a clocke a bed she lyes,
And then againe her Lady-ship doth rise,
Her Maid must make a fire, and attend
To make her ready; then for wine sheele send,
(A morning pinte), she sayes her stomach’s weake,
And counterfeits as if shee could not speake,
Vntill eleuen, or a little past,
About which time, euer she breakes her fast;
Then (very sullen) she wil pout and loure,
And sit down by the fire some halfe an houre.
At twelue a clocke her dinner time she keepes,
Then gets into her chaire, and there she sleepes
Perhaps til foure, or somewhat thereabout;
And when that lazie humour is worne out,
She cals her dog, and takes him in her lap,
Or fals a beating of her maid (perhap)
Or hath a gossip come to tell a tale,
Or else at me sheele curse, and sweare, and rale,
Or walk a turne or two about the Hall,
And so to supper and to bed: heeres all
This paines she takes; and yet I do abuse her:
But no wise man, I thinke, so kind would vse her....”
Stubbes, Anatomie of Abuses, Part ii. p. 274.

In the streets a lady of condition was preceded by a lackey carrying a stick or wand. Gentlemen were followed by their servants carrying the master’s sword. The servants were dressed in blue with the master’s badge in silver on the left arm. The men kept on their hats indoors except in warm weather. The nobles, who were mostly poor, joined with the merchant adventurers in their foreign enterprises; many of the merchants were consulted by the Sovereign and held positions of trust—for example, Gresham; yet the separation of City and Court was already beginning, as is shown by the repeated sneers of the dramatists at the vulgarity and ostentation of the City Madams. We get occasional glimpses of the lower class women and girls; they were rough in their manners and coarse in their conversation; we find them dancing in the street to the music of the tabor and the pipe; we also see them playing at ball up and down the street, like the ’prentices. They lived, like the men, on strong meat and beer; they were therefore physically strong, perhaps as strong as the young men their lovers. The richer sort of citizens had country gardens, generally small enclosures, either in or north of Moorfields, whither they resorted in the long summer evenings; their wives, it is said, used the gardens in the morning for assignations and the carrying on of intrigues.

In the morning the haunt of the gallants was St. Paul’s Cathedral. (See Appendix VIII.) They walked up and down the middle of the nave, called then the “Mediterranean,” exhibiting their new cloaks and their new feathers. After a few turns up and down, or when the clock struck eleven, they left the place and disappeared, going to some of the shops, the tobacconist’s, or the bookseller’s, where they took tobacco and talked about the new books. They then repaired to an ordinary and spent two or three hours over dinner, after which they went back to St. Paul’s and spent there the whole afternoon.

The merchant had his Exchange; the citizen his tavern; the gallant had the apothecary’s shop, where he bought and smoked his tobacco. For daily discourse and business the scholar, the divine, the poet, the wit, had the bookseller’s shop. “He will sit you,” said Ben Jonson, “a whole afternoon in a bookseller’s shop, reading the Greek, Italian, and Spanish.” He would read, and he would talk. Remember that in the year 1590 or thereabouts the art of printing had only been in use a hundred years; all the books were new books; every poet was printed or translated for the first time; the booksellers’ shops contained editions, always new, of ancient classics; of living poets; of foreign writers; there was far greater interest in a new book than our age can understand: as we have seen there were in London alone at least 240 poets, known and acknowledged, whose names are still remembered, and whose poems still remain Anthologies, and there was interest among the reading world in every one of them. There may have been jealousies: poets have always been a jealous folk; but there was appreciation, and there was generosity. And the bookseller’s shop was the place where all who valued new books could meet and talk of books—what talk is more delightful? What criticism more sincere than that between those who themselves belong to letters in an age when literature knows not yet the meaning of the words exhaustion or decay?

Mr. Ordish (Shakespeare’s London, p. 233) has compiled a list of Elizabethan booksellers from the title-pages of the Shakespeare quartos. Such a list was well worth making, though it cannot be considered more than a small instalment. Indeed, the literary output was so enormous during the latter half of the sixteenth century, that the number of booksellers must have been proportionately greater than at present.

The following were some of the signs:—

I. In St. Paul’s Churchyard—

At the sign of the Angel, the Fox, the Flower de Luce and the Crown, the Greyhound, the Green Dragon, the Holy Ghost, the Gun (Edward White), the Pied Bull, the Spread Eagle.

II. By St. Dunstan’s in the West—

At the sign of the White Hart; at the shop under the Dial.

III. In Paternoster Row—

At the sign of the Sun.

IV. Cornhill—

At the sign of the Cat and Parrots.

V. In Carter Lane, near the Paul Head.

Plays and masques were performed on Sunday as well as any other day; the feeling, however, was growing rapidly in favour of a stricter attention to the Sunday, which was confused with the Sabbath. In other words, the Puritans were fast increasing in numbers and in importance.

If amusement was wanted it might also be sought in the street, where the juggler with his music and his tumbler had his regular round. He was distinguished by his thin, coloured cloak and his yellow breeches trimmed with blue. For a modest fee he performed for any who summoned him. Another form of amusement, suitable to those who could not afford to pay the itinerant juggler, and had to consider the expenditure in candles, was to sit round the fire in the evening and tell stories.

“... some mery fit
Of Mayde-Marian, or else of Robin Hood.”

As for the girls:—

“Then is it pleasure the yonge maides amonge,
To watch by the fier the winter-nights longe;
And in the ashes some playes for to marke,
And cover wardes for fault of other warke;
To taste white shevers, to make prophet-roles;
And, after talke, oft times to fille the boles.”

In the private houses there was a great deal of whipping; gentlemen had their servants whipped in the porter’s lodge; to be whipped was no disgrace, but a natural part of servitude, no more to be deplored than the necessity of death; ladies whipped their maid-servants, their sons and their daughters; when a child had been whipped the rod was tied to her girdle, with what we should perhaps consider an excess of admonition. Children knelt before their parents until bidden to rise. On their knees, too, they asked for their father’s blessing. If we may believe Caxton, who died in 1491, and therefore hardly belongs to the Tudor period, there was a great falling off in the behaviour of children in his own recollection. It is a mark of increasing years to compare things of the present with things of the past to the disparagement of the former.

“I see that the children ben borne within the sayd cyte encrease and prouffyte not like their faders and olders; but for mooste parte, after that they ben comeyn to theyr perfight yeres of discretion and rypnes of age, kno well that theyre faders haue lefte to them grete quantite of goodes, yet scarcely among ten two thrive. O blessed Lord! when I remember this, I am al abashed; I cannot judge the cause; but fayrer ne wyser, ne bet bespeken children in theyre youth ben no wher than ther ben in London; but at ther ful ryping, there is no carnel, ne good word found en, but chaff for the most part.”

As for the boys of the household, they either went to one of the City schools or they were instructed by a tutor at home. Probably the latter was unusual when schools were ready to hand. In country places the tutor was common, and his position was anything but pleasant.

“Such is the most base and ridiculous parsimony of many of our Gentlemen (if I may so terme them) that if they can procure some poore Batchelor of Art from the Universitie to teach their children to say grace, will be content upon the promise of ten pounds a yeere at his first comming, to be pleased with five; the rest to be set off in hope of the next advouson (which perhaps was sold before the young man was born). Or if it chance to fall in his time, his lady or master tels him, ‘Indeed, Sir, we are beholden unto you for your paines; such a living is lately falne, but I had before made a promise of it to my butler or bailiffe, for his true and extraordinary service.’

Is it not commonly seen, that the most Gentlemen will give better wages, and deale more bountifully with a fellow who can but a dogge, or reclaime a hawke, than upon an honest, learned, and well qualified man to bring up their children? It may be, hence it is, that dogges are able to make syllogismes in the fields, when their young masters can conclude nothing at home, if occasion of argument or discourse be offered at the table.”

Did the great City merchant ever maintain the domestic chaplain? I have found no instance of such a servant in the household of a citizen. Bishop Hall assigns the domestic chaplains to the country gentleman:—

“A gentle squire would gladly entertain
Into his house some trencher-chappelain;
Some willing man that might instruct his sons,
And that would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
While his young maister lieth o’er his head;
Second, that he do, on no default,
Ever presume to sit above the salt;
Third, that he never change his trencher twice;
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies;
Sit bare at meals, and one half rise and wait;
Last, that he never his young master beat;
But he must aske his mother to define,
How manie jerks she would his breech should line.
All these observ’d he could contented be,
To give five markes, and winter livery.”
Joseph Hall, Satires.

As regards the ’prentices, they were considered as servants not only in the shop and warehouse, but also at home, where they waited at dinner, and followed the ladies to church and when they went abroad in the evening, carrying a lantern and a stout cudgel. For the servants, properly so called, the following regulations will show the manner of their service (Drake, ii.):—

“Imprimis, That no servant bee absent from praier, at morning or evening, without a lawfull excuse, to be alledged within one day after, upon payne to forfeit for every tyme 2d.

2. Item, that none sweare any othe, uppon paine for every othe 1d.

3. Item, That no man leave any doore open, that he findeth shut, without there bee cause, upon payne for every time 1d.

4. Item, That none of the men be in bed, from our Lady-day to Michaelmas, after 6 of the clock, in the morning; nor out of his bed after 10 of the clock at night; nor, from Michaelmas till our Lady-day, in bed after 7 in the morning; nor out after 9 at night, without reasonable cause, on paine of 2d.

5. Item, That no man’s bed be unmade, nor fire or candle-box uncleane, after 8 of the clock in the morning, on paine of 1d.

. . . . . . . . . .

7. Item, That no man teach any of the children any unhonest speeche, or bandie word, or other, on paine of 4d.

8. Item, That no man waite at the table, without a trencher in his hand, except it be uppon some good cause, on paine of 1d.

9. Item, If any man breake a glasse, hee shal answer the price thereof out of his wages and, if it bee not known who breake it, the buttler shall pay for it on paine of 12d.

10. Item, The table must be covered halfe an hour before 11 at dinner, and 6 at supper, or before, on paine of 2d.

11. Item, That meate bee readie at 11, or before, at supper, on paine of 6d.

12. That none be absent, without leave or good cause, the whole day, or any part of it, on paine of 4d.

13. Item, that no man strike his fellow, on paine of losse of service; nor revile or threaten, or provoke another to strike, on paine of 12d.

14. Item, That no man come to the kitchen without reasonable cause, on paine of 1d. and the cook likewyse to forfeit 1d.

15. Item, That none toy with the maids on paine of 4d.

16. Item, That no man weare foule shirt on Sunday, nor broken hose or shooes, or dublett without buttons, on paine of 1d.

17. Item, That when any strainger goeth hence, the chamber be drest up againe within 4 hours after, on paine of 1d.

18. Item, That the hall bee made cleane every day, by eight in the winter, and seaven in the sommer, on paine of him that should do it to forfet 1d.

19. That the court-gate bee shutt each meale, and not opened during dinner and supper, without just cause, on paine the porter to forfet for every time 1d.

20. Item, That all stayrs in the house, and other rooms that neede shall require, bee made cleane on Fryday after dinner, on paine of forfeyture of every one on whome it shall belong unto 3d.

All which sommes shalbe duly paide each quarter-day out of their wages, and bestowed on the poore or other godly use.”

The London merchant’s house in the sixteenth century steadily improved in solid comfort and even in magnificence. No one will ever be able to restore completely, or even approximately, the London of that century. We do not know the numbers of the great houses; we know only in part their constitutions, their pictures; their art; their carved work. In the streets lying off the main avenues of retail trade, especially in those streets near the riverside, a house was frequently at once a place of residence and a warehouse. One may look upon a street in Hildesheim, for instance, and be reminded of Bishopsgate Street, Aldgate, or Leadenhall Street in the time of Queen Elizabeth. That is to say, the greater number of houses were timbered with tiled roofs; the fronts all covered with carvings painted and gilded; there were scattered here and there substantial stone houses; there were still many houses whose gateway opened from some narrow city lane upon a spacious court, above which stood the hall; the lady’s bower; the rooms for apprentices and servants; and, behind all, the garden. Such a house on a large scale was Gray’s Inn; on a lesser scale Barnard’s Inn and the smaller inns. The College of Heralds still shows the general size of the court; Doctor’s Commons until fifty years ago also illustrated the old fashion of building. Bricks were coming into use, but, in the City of London, slowly. There were still many narrow and noisome courts where the hovels were of wood—making a constant danger of fire and filled with all manner of decaying abominations—a constant cause of disease.

By this time all the windows were provided with glass; many of the poorer sort, however, were furnished with the cheap glass which contained the round lumps called bull’s eyes. The shops in the market-places had glass in the upper part, but the lower part still remained open, and was shut at night with a shutter. The goods were exposed outside the window, and the ’prentices stood beside them bawling, “What d’ye lack? What d’ye lack?”

In the more important houses the old custom of living in the great hall was still kept up. In all houses the servants and apprentices sat down with the master and his family.

The floors were still strewn with rushes, but these, on account of the cost of renewing, were seldom changed, so that underneath them, as Erasmus discovered, lay unmolested an “ancient collection of beer, grease, fragments of fish, and everything that is nasty.”

The furniture of the rooms was very different from that of our own times. The following account is taken from ArchÆologia (vol. xxx. p. 2):—

“The Furniture of the different rooms is very similar, varying principally in number and quality of the articles; consisting of sets of hangings, tables with tressels, joined forms, joined stools, court-cupboards, carpets, cushions, and a few chairs; also andirons, and other fire utensils, and several pairs of virginals in different rooms, besides a pair of organs in the chapel, and ‘an instrument musicall’ in the chamber of presence. The carpets, which are numerous, would scarcely appear to have been used according to modern custom for the floors of the apartments, Hentzner having informed us, that the presence-chamber of Queen Elizabeth herself was strewed with hay (i.e. rushes) but they were principally coverings for the tables, stools, and court-cupboards; though they may have been occasionally used to cover some select part of a room, as in the presence-chamber, for instance, where a Turkey carpet is mentioned, five yards and a half long, and two yards and three-quarters broad.

STAPLE INN, HOLBORN

The court-cupboards, which are generally considered to have been moveable closets, answering the purpose of a sideboard, were frequently much ornamented, and such an article may still be seen in old mansions, and in collections of old furniture. They were covered with carpets or cupboard cloths, and set out with cups, salvers, and plate. Some of these carpets were very handsome. In one of the inventories in that valuable authority for researches of this nature, the History of Hengrave, is mentioned, ‘One carpet of black velvet, for the little bord, laced and fringed with silver and gould, lyned with taffita.’ Some of these carpets also had cloths to lay over them, probably, when not in use, in order to protect them. In the same Inventory cushions are mentioned which in richness exceed those of the Archbishop, as ‘two long cushions of plain black velvet, embroidered with roses, with gould and pearle all over, with tassels of gold and silk’; but the nature of his archi-episcopal office probably induced him to avoid too much splendour in his household. There is, however, in the chamber of presence a cushion of cloth of baudkin,[9] and in other apartments, several cushions of velvet and damask. The chair of cloth of gold and silver in the gallery was probably a State chair; and, indeed, from the paucity of these articles, they would seem to be intended only for persons of higher rank. From the ‘latten andirons’ in the chamber of presence being valued at forty shillings, it may be inferred that they were ornamented, and in some cases we know they were richly carved. Iachimo, describing the chamber of Imogen, says:—

‘Her andirons—
I had forgot them—were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.’

The pictures are chiefly portraits of royal personages, the principal noblemen and officers of state, and the promoters of the Reformation, but the list is interesting to shew the Archbishop’s selection. In some of the bed-rooms are truckle-beds (trundle-beds as they are called in some of the inventories of this age); these would seem to have been small beds generally appropriated to attendants, and placed at the foot or side of the standing or principal bed, and occasionally made to run under it during the day. The Host in the Merry Wives of Windsor, in answer to an inquiry after Sir John Falstaff, says, ‘There’s his chamber, his house, his castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed.’ Hudibras also makes the distinction:—

‘If he that in the field is slain,
Be in the bed of honour lain.
He that is beaten may be said,
To lie in honour’s truckle-bed.’

In my Lord’s chamber the bed is a field-bed, but this sort of bed may have been so called from being a folding-bed, as field-stool from fauld-stool, and not as being a camp-bed or lit de champ. The ‘grene satten of bridgs’ in the vestrye was satin of Bruges; and ’dornix,’ of which there are some articles mentioned, is used for ‘Tournay,’ and applied to the manufacture of that place. The ‘Grene saie,’ in the ‘Grene Galery,’ and elsewhere, was probably not silk, but a species of fine cloth (sagum), one of the earliest productions of our woollen manufacture, the material of stockings, which were objected to by William Rufus, as being, from the price, too common for a king.”

We may supplement this account by Harrison’s description (Holinshed, i. 317):—

“The furniture of our houses also exceedeth, and is growne in maner even to passing delicacie; for herein I doo not speake of the nobilitie and gentry onlie, but likewise of the lowest sort in most places of our south countrie, that have aniething at all to take to. Certes in noblemen’s houses it is not rare to see abundance of Arras, rich hangings of tapistrie, silver vessell, and so much other plate, as may furnish sundry cupbords, to the summe often times of a thousand or two thousand pounds at the least: whereby the value of this and the rest of their stuffe dooth grow to be almost inestimable. Likewise in the houses of knights, gentlemen, merchantmen, and some other wealthie citizens, it is not geson to behold generallie their great provision of tapistrie, Turkie worke, pewter, brasse, fine linen, and thereto costlie cupbords of plate, worth five or six hundred or a thousand pounds, to be deemed by estimation. But as herein all these sorts doo far exceed their elders and predecessors, and in neatnesse and curiositie the merchant all other; so in time past, the costlie furniture staied there, whereas now it is descended yet lower even unto the inferior artificers and manie farmers, who by vertue of their old and not of their new leases have for the most part learned also to garnish their cupbords with plate, their joined beds with tapestrie and silke hangings, and their tables with carpets and fine naperie, whereby the wealth of our countrie (God be praised therefore and give us grace to imploie it well) dooth infinetlie appeare. Neither doo I speak this in reprooch of anie man, God is my judge, but to showe that I do rejoise rather to see how God has blessed us with His good gifts; and whilest I behold how that in a time wherein all things are growen to most excessive prices, and what commoditie soever is to be had is daily plucked from the communaltie by such as looke into every trade, we do yet find the meanes to obtein and achive such furniture as heretofore hath beene unpossible. There are old men yet dwelling in the village where I remaine, which hath noted three things to be marvellously altered in England within their sound remembrance; and other three things too much increased. One is, the multitude of chimnies lately erected, whereas in their yoong daies there were not above two or three, of so many in most uplandish towns of the realme (the religious houses and manour places of their lordes alwaies excepted, and peradventure some great personages), but each one made his fire against a reredosse in the hall where he dined and dressed his meat.

The second is the great (although not generall) amendment of lodging, for (said they) our fathers (yea and we ourselves also) have lien full oft upon straw pallets, on rough mats covered onlie with a sheet under coverlets made of dagswain or hopharlots (I use their owne terms) and a good round log under their heads insteed of a bolster or pillow. If it were so that our fathers or the good man of the house, had within seven yeares after his marriage purchased a matteres or flockebed, and thereto a sacke of chaffe to reste his head upon, he thought himselfe to be well lodged as the lord of the towne, that peradventure laie seldom in a bed of downe or whole fethers: so well were they contented, and with such base kind of furniture: which also is not verie much amended as yet in some parts of Bedfordshire, and elsewhere further off from our southerne parts. Pillowes (said they) were thought meet onelie for women in childbed. As for servants, if they had anie sheet above them it was well, for seldom had they anie under their bodies, to keep them from the pricking straws that ran oft through the canvas of the pallet and rased their hardened hides.

The third thing they tell of, is the exchange of vessell, as of treene[10] platters into pewter, and wooden spoones into silver or tin. For so common were all sorts of treene stuffe in old time, that a man should hardlie find foure peeces of pewter (of which one was peradventure a salt) in a good farmer’s house and yet for all this frugalitie (if it may so be justly called) they were scarse able to live and paie their rents at their daies without selling of a cow, or an horsse, or more, although they paid but foure pounds at the uttermost by the year. Such also was their povertie that if some one od farmer or husbandman had beene at the alehouse a thing greatlie used in those daies, amongst six or seven of his neighbours, and there in a braverie to show what store he had, did cast downe his pursse, and therein a noble or six shillings in silver unto them (for few such men then cared for gold bicause it was not so readie paiment and they were oft inforced to give a penie for the exchange of an angell), it was verie likelie that all the rest could not laie downe so much against it; whereas in my time, although peradventure foure pounds of old rent be improved to fortie, fiftie, or an hundred pounds, yet will the farmer as another palme or date tree thinke his gaines verie small toward the end of his terme, if he have not six or seven yeares rent lieng by him, therewith to purchase a new lease, beside a faire garnish of pewter on his cupbord, with so much more in od vessel going about the house, three or foure featherbeds, so many counterlids and carpets of tapistrie, a silver salt, a bowle for wine (if not an whole neast) and a dozzen of spoones to furnish up the sute.”

Or, again, to take another contemporary authority (Hall, Society in the Elizabethan Age):—

“The furniture of an Elizabethan House is illustrated by an inventory of the Household ‘stuffe, goodes and cattelles’ belonging to Sir Henry Parker knight (1557–60). This inventory shows two chairs only for the whole house; eight stools and forms; two square framed tables; one joined table to say mass on; a pair of ‘playing tables’; twelve bedsteads; tapestry and hangings; featherbeds; blankets; bolsters; testors; curtains; counterpoints (counterpanes); seven cupboards; three carpets; andirons, fire shovels, tongs; thirteen candlesticks; certain cushions of tapestry, velvet, white satin and ‘Brydges’ satin; three great chests; utensils for the kitchen; the Brewhouse and the Bargehouse. The Hall was hung round with tapestry; its permanent furniture consisted of two square tables and one great chair of black velvet in which the Justice of the Peace heard cases. When the tables were spread for dinner or supper, forms were brought in. The ‘Great Chamber,’ formerly called the Lady’s Bower, contained the forms used at meals in the Hall, one stool of black velvet for my Lady; and nothing else! In the bedrooms there were the beds and their blankets and nothing else; not a chair or a table; nothing but the bed—what does one want in a bedroom but the bed to sleep upon? For decorations one room had over the chimney a ‘steyned cloth with Marie and Gabriell.’ Another had curtains of sarcenet; another, of red and green say; another, ‘old tapestrye worke of imagery.’ In one chamber we find a bason and ewer of pewter—was this the only means of washing in the whole house? In the buttery were a dozen of fine trenchers ‘cased’; six glasses; six plates for fruits; a ‘garnish’ of pewter vessels; two pewter plates for tarts. Nothing is said of knives—did each person still carry his own? Even then there must have been carving knives. Forks were not as yet in common use, and nothing is said about spoons.”

The inventory of a farmer’s goods about the same time, given in the same work, shows among the household gear, two pewter dishes, three pewter platters, two saucers, four trencher platters, six trencher dishes, two brass kettles, two candlesticks and a chafing dish, eight bowls of wood, twelve trenchers, and twelve trencher spoons; but still nothing about knives. Nor in any of the numerous inventories and accounts given in this book is any mention made of knives. We see, however, in the tables laid upon trestles, the single chair, the forms and stools, the fine tapestry of the Hall, the carpets of the Great Chamber, the testers and the curtains of the bed which stands alone in the bedroom, a compound of state and simplicity; of meanness and richness. Furniture in the modern sense had not yet appeared in the house.

To quote from Shakespeare, Gremio, in the Taming of the Shrew, thus speaks of his furniture:—

“My house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stuff’d my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkish cushions boss’d with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needlework,
Pewter and brass and all things that belong
To house or housekeeping.”

Or take the following note of a lady’s room:—

“Her bed-chamber was garnished with such diversities of sweete herbes, such varietie of fragrant flowers, such chaunge of odoriferous smelles, so perfumed with sweete odours, so stored with sweete waters, so beautified with tapestry, and decked so artificially, that I want memorie to rehearse it, and cunning to expresse it, so that it seemed her Chamber was rather some terresstriall Paradise, than a mansion for such a matelesse mystresse; rather a tabernacle for some Goddesse, than a lodging for such a loathsome carcase.”

The Tudor age was strong in small points of ceremony and etiquette, which descended even to details of housework. For instance, the ceremony to be observed in making the King’s Bed, a thing which we might suppose left to a housemaid, was carefully laid down:—

“Furste a groome or a page to take a torche and to goo to the warderobe of the kynges bedd, and brynge theym of the warderobe with the kynges stuff unto the chambr for makyng of the same bedde. Where as sught to be a gentylman-usher iiij yeomen of the chambr for to make the same bedde. The groome to stande at the bedds feete with his torche. They of the warderobe opennyng the kinges stuff of hys bedde upon a fayre sheets betwen the sayde groome and the bedds fote, iij yeomen or two at the lefte in every syde of the bedde. The gentylman usher and parte commaundyng theym what they shall doo. A yoman with a dagger to searche the strawe of the kynges bedde that there be none untreuth therin. And this yoman to caste up the bedde of downe upon that, and oon of theym to tomble over yt for the serche thereof. Then they to bete and tufte the sayde bedde, and to laye oon then the bolster without touchyng of the bedd where as it aught to lye. Then they of the warderobe to delyver theym a fusty and takyng the saye thereof. All theys yomen to laye theyr hands theroon at oone, that they touch not the bedd, tyll yt be layed as it sholde be by the commaundement of the usher. And so the furste sheet in lyke wyse, and then to trusse in both sheete and fustyan rownde about the bedde of downe. The warderoper to delyver the second sheete unto two yomen, they to crosse it over theyr arme, and to stryke the bedde as the ussher shall more playnly sheweun to theym. Then every yoman layeing hande upon the sheete to laye the same sheete upon the bedde. And so the other fustyan upon or ij with suche coverynge as shall content the kynge. Thus doon the ij yomen next to the bedde to laye down agene the overmore fustyan, the yoman of the warderobe delverynge theym a pane sheete, the sayde yoman therewythall to cover the sayde bedde: and so then to laye down the overmost sheets from the beddes heed. And then the say ij yomen to lay all the overmost clothes of a quarter of the bedde. Then the warderoper to delyver unto theym such pyllowes as shall please the kynge. The sayd yoman to laye theym upon the bolster and the heed sheet with whych the sayde yoman shall cover the sayd pyllowes. And so to trusse the endes of the said sheete under every end of the bolster. And then the sayd warderoper to delyver unto them ij lytle small pyllowes werwythall the squyres for the bodye or gentylman usher shall give te saye to the warderoper, and to the yoman whyche have layde on hande upon the sayd bedde. And then the sayd ij yomen to lay upon the sayde bedde toward the bolster as yt was bifore. They makyng a crosse and kissynge yt where there handes were. Then ij yomen next to the feete to make the seers as the usher shall teche theym. And so then every one of them sticke up the aungel about the bedde, and to lette downe the corteyns of the sayd bedde or sparver.

THE MORE FAMILY
From a picture in the possession of Major-General F. E. Sotheby.

Item, a squyer for the bodye or gentylman-usher aught to sett the kynges sword at hys beddes heede.

Item, a squyer for the bodye aught to charge a secret groome or page to have the kepynge of the sayde bedde with a lyght, unto the tyme the kynge be disposed to goo to yt.

Item, a groome or page aught to take a torche whyle the bedde ys yn makyng to feche a loof of brede, a pott with ale, a pott wyth wine for them that maketh the bedde, and every man.

Item, the gentylman-ussher aught to forbede that no manner of man do sett eny dysshe uppon the kinge’s bedde for fere of hurtyng of the kyng’s ryche counterpoynt that lyeth therupon. And that the sayd ussher take goode heede, that noon man wipe or rubbe their handes uppon none arras of the kynges, wherby they myght be hurted, in the chambr where the kyng ys specially, and in all other.”

The wealth of the English was not so much illustrated, as it was proved, by their immense stores of silver and silver-gilt plate. The people bought all the plate that they could afford; they put their savings, so to speak, in silver plate, as we put them in stocks and shares. Polydore Vergil says that there were few whose tables were not loaded with spoons, cups, and salt-cellars of silver. At the marriage feast of Prince Arthur there was in the great hall a cupboard five stages in height, set with plate valued at £1200, say £15,000 of our money; while in the chamber where the Princess dined there was a cupboard of gold plate valued at £20,000 or £240,000 in our money. Cardinal Wolsey must have spent enormous sums upon plate. There were two banqueting rooms, in each of which was a cupboard extended along the whole length of the apartment, piled to the top with plate, and every guest chamber was provided with silver ewers, basins, and candlesticks. Of silver spoons or dishes there were none; the dishes were of pewter and the plates of wood, even in the greatest houses.

Lastly, on the subject of furniture, let me quote from another paper in ArchÆologia, vol. xxxvi. p. 284:—

“The furniture of the hall is excessively scanty and plain, consisting of but a single table and two forms, of the total value of 4s. 6d. In the parlour, however, is a much greater abundance of furniture, as, in addition to the main table, there is the side table and another small table, a chair and six stools with embroidered cushions, besides footstools; while for the decoration of the room we find a portrait of Henry VIII. and hangings of green saye, and, for the amusement of the family and guests, a pair of virginals, a base lute, and a guitar, with chess and backgammon boards for those not musically inclined. The children’s chamber, or nursery as we should call it, is comfortably provided with bedding and nursery requisites, and contains a cupboard, two coffers, and a great wicker hamper, as receptacles for the clothes, etc. The allowance of blankets appears but small, being only one pair to a bed, either in the nursery or in the bedroom of the master of the house. The latter room is provided with a walnut-tree bedstead, adorned with green fringe, and having a coverlet of tapestry, a walnut table, chairs and stools, curtains for the windows of green saye, a warming-pan, and, as a ready means of defence against thieves or intruders, a pole-axe. In an inner closet, leading out of this room, are four stills, for the use of the lady of the house.

Sir William More’s own closet is so well appointed that it might almost serve as a model for the morning-room of a country squire of the present day. On the walls hang maps of the World, of France, of England, and of Scotland, and a picture of Judith, a little chronicle, and a perpetual almanac in frames. Among the accessories are a globe, a slate to write on, and a counterboard and cast of counters, with which to make calculations and cast accounts, in the manner then in vogue. On the desk are a pair of scales and a set of weights, a pair of scissors, a penknife, a whetstone, a pair of compasses, a foot-rule, a hammer, a seal of many seals, and an inkstand of pewter, with a pounce-box, and pens both of bone and steel. Around the room is a collection of about 120 volumes of books; among them are some of the best chronicles of the time, as Fabyan, Langton, Harding, Carion, etc.; translations from the classics, as well as some in their original language; for magisterial business there are the statutes of Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Mary, and all the statutes before, as well as the New Book of Justices, and other legal works; for medical use we find a Book of Physic, the Glass of Health, and a book against the Sweat, as well as a Book of Medicines for Horses; while for lighter reading there are such books as Chaucer, Lydgate, Skelton, and others, not only in English but also in French and Italian; and for religious study, besides a Bible and Testaments in various languages, the Scala Perfectionis, Flores Bibliae, etc. The whole catalogue is worthy of attentive perusal by the bibliographical antiquary, and affords the titles of some English works which are not, I believe, at present known.

In the closet of the lady of the house are a few more books, principally of prayers, a large collection of trunks and boxes, a number of glass vessels of various forms and uses, and a few of enamel or china, with trenchers, knives, shears, graters, snuffers, moulds, brushes, and other miscellaneous properties of a good housewife.”

Water was carried about the City from the conduits by water-carriers called “Cobbs,” who carried it in large tankards, each holding about three gallons.

The palmy time of tobacco extended over the fifty years after its introduction. During this time the use of tobacco penetrated all ranks and classes of society. The grave divine, the soldier, the lawyer, the gallant about town, the merchant, the craftsman, the ’prentice, all used pipes. At the theatre the young fellow called for his pipe and for tobacco and began to smoke: presently he rose and walking over to the boxes presented his pipe to any lady of his acquaintance.

People went to bed with tobacco box and pipe and candle on a table by the bedside in case they might wake up in the night and feel inclined for tobacco. After supper in a middle-class family, all the men and women smoked together. Nay, it is even stated that the very children in school took a pipe of tobacco instead of breakfast, the master smoking with them and instructing them how to bring the smoke through the nostrils in the fashion of the day. Tobacco was bought and sold in pennyworths.

Every man carried a “tobacco box, steel, and touch.” Early in the seventeenth century there are said to have been 7000 tobacconists’ shops in London. This seems incredible; perhaps there were 7000 shops in which tobacco was sold. For instance, all apothecaries sold tobacco. Many of the tobacco shops were of handsome appearance. A tobacco shop had a maple block for cutting the leaf; tongs for holding the coals, and a fire of juniper at which the pipes were lighted. Tobacco was so cheap that a man might fill his pocket with it for twopence. Yet over £300,000 a year was spent in London on tobacco, while there were some—but this is impossible—who were reported to spend, habitually, £400 a year upon tobacco alone; that is, 48,000 pocketsful every year, or 130 pocketsful every day; which is absurd.

Expletives and oaths are changed with every generation. The Elizabethans had, no doubt, a great many, of which the following represent but a few. The old Catholic oaths “By’r Lady,” “By the Mass,” and so forth, vanished with the Reformation. We now find a lot of meaningless ejaculations, such as “God’s Wounds,” “God’s Fools,” “God’s Dines,” “Cocke’s Bones,” “Deuce take me,” “Bones a God,” and “Bones a me.” The now familiar “Damn” makes its appearance in literature; but indeed it had flourished in the mouths of the people for many generations. There is nothing really remarkable about the swearing of the Elizabethan period.

Every merchant formerly carried a signet-ring, on which was engraved, not his coat-of-arms, but his mark or signet. Thus, a curious signet-ring was found lying in the bed of the river while digging the foundations of London Bridge. At first it was believed to be Sir Thomas Gresham’s, but that seems now to be impossible. It is engraved in The London and Middlesex Notebook (p. 195). The device contains the initials of the owner, with an arrangement of lines probably not intended to have any meaning except that they should be recognised as forming part of Sir Thomas Gresham’s signet. Armed with this ring as an introduction, a messenger could buy and sell for the merchant—it being presumed that the ring never left its owner save to be used as a letter of recommendation and introduction. Sometimes the signet-ring was worn on the thumb. Other merchants’ devices are figured in the “Notebook.”

Foreigners have revealed to us some very curious and rather startling peculiarities of the custom of kissing as practised by our ancestors. Thus as early as 1466 a Bohemian nobleman named Leo von Rozmital visited England, and in the Journal of his Travel (1577) it is noted that “it is the custom there, that on the arrival of a distinguished stranger from foreign parts, maids and matrons go to the inn and welcome him with gifts. Another custom is observed there, which is that, when guests arrive at an inn, the hostess with all her family go out to meet and receive them; and the guests are required to kiss them all, and this among the English was the same as shaking hands among other nations.” Erasmus, in 1499, wrote a Latin letter from England to his friend Fausto Anfrelini, an Italian poet, exhorting him in a strain of playful levity to think no more of his gout, but to betake himself to England; for (he remarks) “here are girls with angels’ faces, so kind and obliging, that you would far prefer them to all your Muses. Besides, there is a custom here never to be sufficiently recommended. Wherever you come you are received with a kiss by all; when you take your leave you are dismissed with kisses; you return, kisses are repeated. They come to visit you, kisses again; they leave you, you kiss them all round. Should they meet you anywhere, kisses in abundance; in fine, wherever you move, there is nothing but kisses.” In 1527 Cardinal Wolsey was appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to France. He was accompanied by George Cavendish, his gentleman usher, who wrote a Life of the Cardinal. Cavendish had gone forward to prepare his lord’s lodging. He says: “And I being there (at the Sire de CrÉqui’s Castle at Moreuil, about twelve miles from Amiens) tarrying a while, my lady CrÉqui issued out of her chamber into her dining chamber, where I attended her coming, who received me very gently like her noble estate, having a traine of twelve gentlewomen. And when she and her traine was come all out, she saide unto me, ‘For as much,’ quoth she, ‘as ye be an Englishman whose custome is to kisse all ladies and gentlemen in your country without offense, although it is not soe here with us in this realme, yet I will be so bould as kisse you, and soe ye shall doe all my maids.’ By meanes whereof I kissed her and all her maides.” In the narrative of the visit of the Spanish nobleman, the Duke de Najera, in 1543–44, we are told that “after the dancing was finished (which lasted several hours) the Queen entred again into her chamber, having previously called one of the noblemen who spoke Spanish, to offer in her name, some presents to the Duke, who again kissed her hand; and on his requesting the same favour of the Princess Mary, she would by no means permit it, but offered him her lips, and the Duke saluted her, and did the same to all the other ladies.” A Greek traveller, Nicander Nucius, came to England in 1545, and remarks: “They display great simplicity and absence of jealousy in their usages towards females. For not only do those who are of the same family and household kiss them on the mouth with salutations and embraces, but even those too who have never seen them. And to themselves this appears by no means indecent.” Again, when the Constable of Castile appeared at the Court of Whitehall on Saturday afternoon, 18th August 1604, after kissing Her Majesty’s hands he requested permission to salute the ladies of honour (twenty in number, standing in a row, and beautiful exceedingly) according to the custom of the country, and any neglect of which is taken as an affront. Whereupon the Queen having given him leave, His Excellency complied with the custom, much to the satisfaction of the ladies.

In Shakespeare’s Henry VIII., at the Cardinal’s banquet, the King says to Anne Bullen:—

In dancing it appears to have been the customary fee of a lady’s partner. A further illustration of the custom may be seen. Foreigners of the male sex, and especially Frenchmen, are in the more frequent habit of kissing each other, and probably not the ladies. Misson, a Frenchman who travelled in England about 1697, says: “The people of England, when they meet, never salute one another, otherwise than by giving one another their hands, and shaking them heartily; they no more dream of pulling off their hats, than the women do of pulling off their headcloths.”

The sin of great cities we may pass over; that of early marriage is still, as it was in Stubbes’ time, a very terrible evil; the sin of drunkenness is with us still, and is present in every country. The side of charity that consists in giving doles to the poor was then neglected, and is now destroyed. We still suffer from money-lenders, though they can no longer conduct us to a life-long prison.

“Beleeve mee,” says Stubbes, “it greeveth mee to heare (walking in the streats) the pitiful cryes, and miserable complaints of poore prisoners in durance for debt, and like so to continue all their life, destitute of libertie, meat, drink (though of the meanest sorte), and clothing to their backs, lying in filthie strawe, and lothsome dung, wursse than anie dogge, voide of all charitable consolation and brotherly comfort in this World, wishing and thyrsting after death to set them at libertie, and loose them from their shackles, giues, and yron bands.” (Stubbes.)

As for the boys of this century, I have always thought their favourite haunt was the river, or the river-side. On the river they rowed about among the fishermen, and the swans above Bridge; the Queen’s Barge swept past them with its trumpets and its hangings gorgeous to behold; the Lord Mayor and the Companies were borne along before them in state and splendour such as we have forgotten—surely nothing could have been more splendid than these barges with their long lines of flashing oars and their bows gilt and carved, and the carved work of the covered seat of state, and the servants in their green and gold. Below Bridge, in the Port, they rowed in and out among the ships as boys will about Portsmouth Harbour now; the name of each ship with her port was written on her lofty stern. The figure-head of each was bright as paint and gold would make it. If they were allowed to go on board there were sailors full of yarns, with strange things to show as well as to tell. If they went as far down as Deptford, there was Drake’s ship, the ship which had gone all round the world—all round the world! If they stayed ashore, there were taverns in Wapping and St. Katherine’s, where they could snatch the fearful joy of seeing the sailors drink and fight, the foreign sailors and the English sailors, and the sailors from the North Country, and those of London and the Cinque Ports. The river and the river-side were famous schools to fill the minds of London boys with an ardour for adventure; a yearning for the way of war; a burning desire to cross the seas and visit far countries; and a thirst for geography; and all the London boys of every class regularly attended the classes of this Academy.

The theatre, of course, offers a fine field for the Elizabethan satirist, Stubbes. He cannot find words strong enough to condemn the playgoer. Then there is that other source and fount of laughter, the Lord of Misrule.

“First, all the wilde-heds of the Parish, conuenting togither, chuse them a Graund Captain (of all mischeefe) whome they innoble with the title of ‘my Lord of Mis-rule,’ and him they crowne with great solemnitie, and adopt for their King. This king anointed chuseth forth twentie, fortie, threescore or a hundred lustie Guttes, like to himself, to waighte vppon his lordly Maiestie, and to guarde his noble person. Then, euerie one of these his men, he inuesteth with his liuerues of green, yellow, or some other light wanton colour; And as though that were not baudie (gaudie) enough, I should say, they bedecke them selues with scarfs, ribons, and laces hanged all over with golde rings, precious stones, and other jewels: this doon, they tye about either leg xx. or xl. bels, with rich handkerchiefs in their hands, and sometimes laid a crosse ouer their shoulders and necks, borrowed for the most parte of their pretie Mopsies and loouing Besses, for bussing them in the dark. Thus al things set in order, then haue they their Hobby-horses, dragons and other antiques, togither with their baudie Pipers and thundering Drummers to strike vp the deuils daunce withall. Then marche these heathen company towards the church and Churchyard, their pipers pipeing, their drummers thundring, their stumps dauncing, their bels iyngling, their handkerchiefs swinging about their heds like madmen, their hobbie horses and other monsters skirmishing amongst the route: and in this sorte they go to the Church (I say) and into the Church (though the Minister be at prair or preaching), dancing and swinging their handkerchiefs ouer their heds in the Church, like deuils incarnate, with such a confuse noise, that no man can hear his own voice. Then, the foolish people they looke, they stare, they laugh, they fleer, and mount vpon fourmes and pewes to see these goodly pageants solemnized in this sort. Then, after this, about the Church they goe againe and againe, and so foorth into the churchyard, where they haue commonly their Sommer-haules, their bowers, arbors, and banqueting houses set vp, wherin they feast, banquet and daunce al that day and (peradventure) all the night too. And thus these terrestriall furies spend the Sabaoth day.” (Stubbes, Anatomie of Abuses, edit, by Furnivall.)

A SHIP OF THE TIME OF HENRY VIII.

The custom of church ales is described by Stubbes with his customary vigour:—

“In certaine Townes where drunken Bachus beares all the sway, against a Christmas, an Easter, Whitsonday, or some other time, the Church-wardens (for so they call them) of euery parish, with the consent of the whole Parish, prouide half a score of twenty quarters of mault, wherof some they buy of the Church-stock, and some is giuen them of the Parishioners them selves, euery one conferring somewhat, according to his abilitie; which mault, beeing made into very strong ale or beere, it is set to sale, either in the Church, or some other place assigned to that purpose.

Then, when the Nippitatum, this Huf-cap (as they call it) and this nectar of lyfe, is set abroche, wel is he that can get the soonest to it, and spend the most at it; for he that fitteth the closest to it, and spends the moste at it, he is counted the godliest man of all the rest; but who either cannot, for pinching pouertie, or otherwise, wil not stick to it, he is counted one destitute bothe of vertue and godlynes. In so much as you shall haue many poor men make hard shift for money to spend ther at, for it beeing put into this Corban, they are perswaded it is meritorious, and a good seruice to God. In this kinde of practise they continue six weeks, a quarter of a year, yea, half a year togither, swilling and gulling, night and day, till they be as drunke as Apes, and as blockish as beasts.” (Stubbes, Ibid.)

They pretend, he says, to repair their churches with money so got:—

“But who seeth not that they bestow this money vpon nothing lesse than in building and repayring of Churches and Oratories? For in most places lye they not like swyn coates? their windowes rent, their dores broken, their walles fall downe, the roofe all bare, and what not out of order? Who seeth not the booke of God, rent, ragged, and all betorn, couered in dust, so as this Epitaphe may be writ with ones finger vppon it, ecce nunc in puluere dormio? (Alas;) behold I sleep in dust and oblyuion, not once scarse looked vppon, much less red vpon, and the least of all preached vppon.” (Stubbes, Ibid.)

Of wakes and feasts and “the horrible vice of pestiferous dancing” we need say little. Nor of music, “how it allureth to vanitie”; nor of cards, dice, tennis, and bowls, all of which we still practise; nor of the bear-baiting which we have now discontinued. Of the reading of bad books we may still complain after the manner of Stubbes. In a word, his Book of Lamentations would serve with slight alterations for to-day as well as his own age.

On the exchange of English goods for foreign trifles, I find a note in Furnivall’s edition of Stubbes’ Anatomy:—

“Thou must carry beside, leather, tallow, beef, bacon, bell-metal and everything:
And for these good commodities, trifles into England thou must bring,
As bugles to make bables, coloured bones, glass beads to make bracelets withal,
For every day gentlewomen of England do ask for such trifles from stall to stall:
And you must bring more, as amber, jet, coral, crystal, and every such bable
That is slight, pretty, and pleasant: they care not to have it profitable.
And if they demand wherefore your wares and merchandise agree,
You must say ‘jet will take up a straw: amber will make one fat:
Coral will look pale when you be sick, and crystal staunch blood,’
So with lying, flattering and glosing, you must utter your ware,
And you shall win me to your will, if you can deceitfully swear.
. . . . . . .
Lucre. Then, Signor Mercatore, I am forthwith to send ye
From hence to search for some new toys in Barbary and in Turkey;
Such trifles as you think will please wantons best,
For you know in this country ’tis their chiefest request.
Mercatore. Indeed, de gentlewomans here buy so much vain toys
Dat we strangers laugh-a to tink wherein dey have their joys.”

The suppressing of the Religious Houses produced, for a time, a great deal of hardship and difficulty. For not only were the friars turned out into the streets, but all the people living upon the monasteries were deprived of their daily bread; many of these unfortunates took to the road and became tramps, vagabonds, masterless men and thieves; many took refuge in those parts of London which were outside the jurisdiction of the City. London, indeed, was the place which the masterless man regarded as a veritable Paradise. They flocked up to London from all quarters; they were constantly being turned out and as constantly coming back again. When Queen Elizabeth once drove out to the country cottage of Islington, she was mobbed by a gang of vagabonds who accosted her with clamours; they harboured in the brick kilns there. In some parts close to London, as Hyde Park Corner and Lincoln’s Inn Fields, no one would venture after dark. Men took arms into their bedrooms at night, ready for use. Generally it seems that they hung a drawn sword at the bedside. The ’prentices, however, were the best protectors to a house. They slept in the shop, if there were a shop; or if there were no shop they slept somewhere on the ground floor, as is evident from the edifying revelations of “Meriton Latron,” in which it is shown how easily the ’prentices could get out at night for these riotous and profligate meetings and drinkings. I suppose it matters nothing that this writer belongs to the next century. In such small matters the world is conservative. According to this authority, it was common for ’prentices to rob their masters, exchanging with each other or holding a kind of auction in their taverns at night. The time when the City was most free from crimes was when the men had been called out to follow the flag and fight. The worst time was after the war, when they all came back again to their old haunts, thirsting for their old amusements and more disinclined for work than ever.


The manner and times of taking food under the Tudors may be summed up as follows:—

For breakfast, those who made a meal before dinner at all, took, in the country, pottage, and, in town, “muskadel and eggs,” or bread-and-butter with a draught of small ale. The Princess Mary, in 1533, used to eat so much meat for breakfast that she terrified her physicians. It does not appear, however, that the workpeople took anything at all unless it were a draught of small ale before their dinner at ten. The hour of dinner varied during the century from ten till twelve. For children there was “nuntion” or luncheon before dinner and a “bever” or slight repast between dinner and supper. Venner recommends no breakfast at all, but to wait for dinner. If, however, one cannot wait, then he advises poached eggs, with salt, pepper, a little vinegar, bread-and-butter and claret. When Cosmo, Duke of Tuscany, came to the country he visited Colonel John Nevill, and had breakfast with him, drinking Italian wine.

The dinners were plentiful and varied. A salad was served first, then the beef and mutton; next fowls, and fish; game followed, woodcock being the most plentiful; and pastry and sweets came last. Honey was poured over the meat. The most important part of the meal, however, was the “banquet” or dessert which followed: at this part of the dinner an amazing quantity of sweetmeats was taken; for this every one adjourned to another room in winter; to the garden in summer.

In the winter fresh meat was not always to be had: most people laid in large quantities of beef in October and November, which they salted. The markets, however, made up for the absence of fresh meat by the abundance of all kinds of birds which were brought into London; they were trapped, or shot with sling and stone, in the marshes along the lower reaches of the Thames. Pork could be had all the year round. Fresh fish was generally plentiful, but it was sometimes dear. At such times the people fell back upon stockfish, which was often bad and the cause of much disease. Herrings were brought by sea from Yarmouth in barrels, and partly salted, as they are at this day. They were a favourite form of food, and were made into pasties highly spiced.

The food of the sixteenth century was more stimulating than our own: the only drink was fermented and alcoholic, even the small beer which was the national beverage; there was no tea or coffee; vast quantities of wine were taken; there were nearly a hundred different kinds, more than half being French. Wine of Bordeaux was sold at 8d. the gallon; Spanish wine at 1s. In drinking sack, the cup was half filled with sugar. Indeed, sugar or honey was taken with everything: with roast meat, with wine, and in the form of sweetmeats; so that the teeth of most people were black in consequence.

A diet so stimulating could not fail to produce its effects in causing the people to be more easily moved to wrath, to love, to pity, to jealousy—than a diet composed of tea and coffee. There can be no doubt whatever that all classes of men and women were far readier with hand and tongue than at present; swifter to wrath; more prone to sudden outbursts; more quick with dagger or sword.

Their tables were set out on trestles for the dinner and removed after dinner. People sat on stools; the floor was strewn with rushes; the tables, not the floors, were covered with rich carpets.

A piece of the table furniture which has long since disappeared was the Roundel. It is supposed to have been used for fruit. A set of Roundels, not quite perfect, is described in ArchÆologia (vol. xxxix.). They are circular and of wood, the upper side perfectly plain; the lower side is partly covered with black paint or dye and partly white. A legend, in rhyme, runs round the outer edge, and within is a figure with a number. The figure and letters are gilt. In this example nine trenchers out of the twelve represent the Courtier, the Country gentleman, the Lawyer, and so forth—characters of the time, the verses being taken from a book called The XII. Wonders of the World.

It is pleasing to learn from Harrison of the reform introduced in his own time by the revival of the custom of taking vegetables of all kinds and plentifully. He says:—

“Such herbes, fruits, and roots also as grow yeerlie out of the ground, of seed, have been verie plentifull in this land, in the time of the first Edward, and after his daies; but in processe of time they grew also to be neglected, so that from Henrie the fourth till the latter end of Henrie the seventh, and beginning of Henrie the eight, there was little or no use of them in England, but they remained either unknowne, or supposed as food more meet for hogs and savage beasts to feed upon than mankind. Whereas in my time their use is not onlie resumed among the poore commons, I mean of melons, pompions, gourds, cucumbers, radishes, skirets, parsneps, carrets, cabbages, nauewes, turneps, and all kinds of salad herbs, but also fed upon as deintie dishes at the tables of delicate merchants, gentlemen, and the nobilitie, who make their provision yearlie for new seeds out of strange countries, from whence they have them aboundantlie.” (Holinshed’s Chronicles.)

The Flemings commenced the first market-gardens. Lettuce was served as a separate dish, and eaten at supper before meat. Capers were usually eaten boiled with oil and vinegar, as a salad. Eschalots were used to smear the plate before putting meat on it. Carrots had been introduced by the Flemings. Rhubarb, then called Patience, came from China about 1573. The common people ate turnip-leaves as a salad, and roasted the root in wood-ashes. Watercress was believed to restore the bloom to young ladies’ cheeks.

They used mustard and horse-radish; they took anchovies with wine; they took olives with wine; they had boiled oysters; boiled radishes, artichokes raw or boiled; they poured honey or spread sugar over their beef and mutton; they served pork in many ways, but if roasted, then with green sauce of sorrel; salmon they stuck with cloves; they ate porpoises; turkeys were roasted with cloves; peacocks they roasted while they were still under a year old; pigeons they stuffed with sour grapes or unripe gooseberries; rabbits were cheap and plentiful; pies of all kinds were very popular. They made salad out of barberries in pickle or with lettuces as in modern fashion. In the ordinaries and taverns there were no wine-glasses: people drank out of green pots made of white clay. They took supper at six; this was a smaller meal than dinner, but yet a plentiful meal. In a word, the Elizabethan Englishman lived much as the modern Frenchman lives: he took two meals a day and no more. In the principal ordinaries and inns musicians attended; even in the cheaper ones a viol de gamba was kept for everybody who could play; men dined for choice at the ordinary, which was a great deal cheaper than the tavern; it was not customary for the ladies to appear at taverns. An inn was known by its painted lattice; all kinds of wine could be had at most taverns, but foreign wines were sold to the general public by apothecaries. Waiters wore aprons. In private houses, but not at ordinaries and taverns, the silver fork had been introduced.

“The laudable use of forks,
Brought into custom here, as they are in Italy,
To th’ sparing o’ napkins.”

And in Ben Jonson’s Volpone,

“Then must you learn the use
And handling of your silver fork at meals.”

I have found inventories of household goods as late as the end of the seventeenth century without any mention of forks. I am inclined, therefore, to believe that they came into use very slowly, and that the old fashion of eating with a knife, fingers, and bread, lasted in country houses at least until the end of the seventeenth century. It is a survival of the old manner of eating which makes the lower class “eat with their knives.” Let me add that in my own recollection the practice has almost entirely disappeared. Forty years ago one could not take dinner at a tavern or an eating-house without seeing some of the company helping themselves with their knives.

Tittle-Tattle; Or, the several Branches of Gossipping.
From a satirical print in the British Museum.

Here is the bill of a dinner given to the Lord Treasurer, the Chancellor, the Lord Chief Baron, and others not named, on 4th June 1573:—

s.
d.
Imprimis Bread, ale, and beer
13
4
Item Two sorloines of beef
10
0
Four gees
7
0
Four joyntes of veale
6
8
Six capons
13
8
Three quarters of lambe
4
0
A dozen of chickens
5
0
A dozen of rabbites
4
8
Half a dozen quayles
6
8
For butter
4
0
For eggs
1
0
For vinegar, vergis barberius and mustard
1
0
For spices
1
0
For fruite
6
0
For rose water and swete water
0
8
For scrill and parsley
0
6
For White Wine
1
4
For flowers and strong herbes
0
6
For sacke
1
0
For fier
5
0
For cook’s wages
6
0
For boote hier
1
4
For occupying plate, naperie and other necessaries
5
0

Unfortunately these bills never contain the whole. It is of course impossible to believe that one shilling and fourpence represents the whole of the wine consumed on this occasion.

Ben Jonson thus ridicules the care and thought expended upon feasting:—

“A master-cook! why, he’s the man of men
For a professor! he designs, he draws,
He paints, he carves, he builds, he fortifies,
Makes citadels of curious fowl and fish,
Some he dry-dishes, some moats round with broths:
Mounts marrow-bones, cuts fifty-angled custards,
Rears bulwark pies, and for his outer works
He raiseth ramparts of immortal crust;
And teacheth all the tactics at one dinner:
What ranks, what files, to put his dishes in:
The whole art military. Then he knows
The influence of the stars upon his meats,
And all their seasons, tempers, qualities,
And so to fit his relishes and sauces.
He had nature in a pot, ’bove all the chymists,
Or airy brethren of the Rosie-cross.
He is an architect, an engineer,
A soldier, a physician, a philosopher,
A general mathematician.”

And again in his dream of luxurious living:—

“We will be brave, Puff, now we have the med’cine.
My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,
Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies.
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels’ heels,
Boil’d in the spirit of sol, and dissolv’d pearl,
Apicius’ diet, ’gainst the epilepsy;
And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.
My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver’d salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels served instead of salads.”
The Alchemist.

And this for a more sober supper, yet not without its points of excellence:—

“Yet shall you have to rectify your palate,
An olive, capers, or some better salad
Ushering the mutton; with a short legg’d hen,
If we can get her full of eggs, and then,
Limons, and wine for sauce; to these, a coney
Is not to be despar’d of for our money;
And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,
The sky not falling, think we may have larks,
I’ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:
Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some
May yet be there; and godwit if we can:
Knat, rail, and ruf too, howsoe’er, my man
Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,
Livy, or of some better book to us,
Of which we’ll speak our minds, amidst our meat;
And I’ll profess no verses to repeat.
To this, if aught appear, which I not know of,
That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.
Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be;
But that which most doth take my muse and me,
Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine,
Which is the Mermaid’s now, but shall be mine:
Of which had Horace or Anacreon tasted,
Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.
Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring,
Are all but Luther’s beer to this I sing.”

The greatest attention was paid to the service of the table: not only, for instance, must the carving be performed in manner peculiar to each kind of creature, but each creature had its own verb signifying its carving. The terms used for carving are curious and now completely forgotten:—

“Breke that deer; lesche that brawn; rere that goose; lyfte that swanne; sauce that capon; spoil that hen; fruche that chekyn; unbrace that mallard; unlace that conye; desmembre that heron; display that crane; dysfygure that pecocke; unjoint that byterrne; untache that curlewe; allay that desande; wynge that patryche; wynge that quail; mynce that plover; thye that pygyon; border that pastie; thye that woodcocke; thye all maner of small birds; tymbre that fyre; tyere that egge; chyne that samon; strynge that lampreye; splatte that pyke; sauce that plaice; sauce that tench; splay that breme; syde that haddock; tuske that berbell; culpon that trout; fyne that cheven; transene that ele; traunche that sturgeon; under-traunch that porpus; tayme that crabbe; barbe that lobster. Here endeth the goodlye termes of kervynge.”

The way in which the table was to be served was presented, in general terms, as follows:—

“Slow be the servers in serving, alwaye,
But swift be they after, taking meate away;
A special custom used is them amonge,
No good dishe to suffer on borde to be longe.
If the dishe be pleasante, whether fleshe or fishe,
Ten hande at once swarme in the dishe;
And if it be fleshe, ten knives shalt thou see
Mangling the fleshe, and in the platter flee;
Put there thy hands in peryl without fayle
Without a gauntlet or a glove of mayle.”
Antiquary’s Portfolio, p. 130.

And next in minute detail. Thus including the reception of a guest. Let us first remember that the plates were commonly of bread, but sometimes of wood. When they were of bread, the loaves were first carefully pared; then the butler placed the salt-cellar before the principal guest, and in front of the salt-cellar, upon the carving knives, he was to place the bread. But before Grace this was to be removed, and replaced in thick slices one upon the other.

“Thenne the karver or sewer most asserve every disshe in his degree after order, and course of service, as folowith:—

First, mustard and brawne, swete wine served thereto.
Potage.
Befe and moton, swan or geese.
Grete pies, capon or fesaunt, leche or fretours.

Thenne if potage be chaungebill after tyme and season of the yere, as falleth, as here is rehersid: by exampel for befe and moton ye shall take

Pestelles, or chynys of porke, or els
Tonge of befe, or
Tonge of the harte powdered,
Befe stewed,
Chekyns boylyd and bacon.

Then against the secunde cours be redy, and come into the place, the kerver must avoyde and take upp the service of the first cours, begynnynge at the lowest mete forst, and all broke cromys, bonys, and trenchours, before the secunde cours and service be served.

Thenne the secunde cours shall be served in manner and forme as ensample thereof, hereafter folowyng:—

Potage-pigge Lamme stewed
Conye Kidde roosted
Crane Veneson roosted
Heronseue Heronseue
Bitoure Bitoure
Egrete Pigeons
Curlewe Rabetts
Wodecock A bake meat
Petrigge Stokke dovys stewed
Plover Cony
Snytys Mallard
Qualy sGelys
Fretours Wodecock
Leche Great byrdys

After the secunde cours served, kerved, and spente, it must be sene cuppys to be filled, trenchours to be voyded, thenne by goode avysement the tabill must be take uppe in manner as folowith: first, when tyme foloweth, the panter or boteler muste gader uppe the sponys: after that done by leyser, the sewer or carver shall begyne at the lowest ende, and in order take upp the lowest messe, after the syde tabill be avoyded and take upp: and thenne to procede to the principal tabill, and there honestly and clenly avoyde and withdrawe all the service of the high tabill: therto the kerver must be redy, and redely have avoyded togeder in all the broke brede, trenchours, comys lying upon the tabill, levyng none other thyng, save the salte selar, hole brede (if any be lefte), and cuppys. After this done by good deliberacion and avysement, the kerver shall take the service of the principall messe in order and rule, begynnynge at the lowest and so procede in rule unto the laste. And thereuppon the kerver to have redy a voyder, and to avoyde all men’s trenchours, broke brede in another clene disshe voyder, and cromys, which with the kervyng knyf shall be avoyded from the tabill, and thus procede untill the table be voyded. Thenne the kerver shall go into the cuppibord, and redresse and ordeyne wafers into toweyles of raynes (table-cloth) or fine napkyns, which moste be cowched fayre and honestly uppon the tabill, and thenne serve the principall messe first, and thorowe the tabill, i or ij if it so require. Therto moste be servid swete wine: and in feriall tyme, serve cheese, scraped with sugar and sauge levis, or else that it be fayre kerved hole: or frute as the season of the year geveth, strawberys, chevys, peyres, appelis: and in wynter, wardens, costardys roste, rosted on fisshe days with blanche powder, and so serve it forth.

Thenne after wafers and frute spended, all manner of thynge shall be take uppe, and avoyded, except the principall salte seler, hole brede, and kervyng knyves, the which shall be redressed in manner and fourme as they were first sette on the table: the which principall servitours of the panter or botery, havynge his towaile, shall take upp and bear it into his office, in lykewise as he first brought it unto the tabill. Thenne the principall servitours, as kerver and sewer, most have redy a longe towayle applied double to be cowched uppon the principall ende of the tabill: and that towelle must be justely drawn thorowe the tabill unto the lower ende: and if servitours to awayte thereuppon, that it be mustly cowchd and spred: after that done, there must be ordeyned basyns and ewers, with water hot or colde as tyme of the yere requireth, and to be sette upon the tabill, and to stonde unto the grace be said: and incontynent after grace saide, the servitours to be redy to awayte and attende to give water: first, to the principall messe, and after that to the seconde: incontynent after this done, the towayle and tabillclothis muste be drawen, cowched and sprad, and so by littill space taken uppe in the myddis of the tabill, and so to be delyvered to the office of the pantery or botery.

Thenne uprysing, servitours must attende to avoyde tabills, trestellis, formys, and stoolys, and to redresse bankers and quyssyons: then the butler shall avoyde the cupborde, begynnynge at the loweste, procede in rule to the hyeste, and bere it into his office. Thenne after mete, it most be awayted and well entended by servitours, if drinke be asked: and if ther be knyght or lady, or grete gentilwoman, they shall be servid upon knee with brede and wyne.

Thenne it mot be sene if strangers shall be broght to chamber, and that the chamber be clenly apparelled and dressed accordyng to the tyme of yere: as in winter tyme fyre: in sommer tyme the bedde covered with pylowes and bed shetys, in case they wolle rest: and after this done, they moste have cheer of neweltees in the chamber, as juncates, cherys, pepyns, and such neweltees as the tyme of yere requereth, and swete wynes, Ypocrasse, Tyre, Mustadell, bastard beruage, of the beste that may be had to the honour and laude of the principall of the house.”

After the dinner was eaten what remained was taken down for the servants, and whatever was left over when these had finished was bestowed upon the poor who sat outside the doors waiting their turn. The drink was served in silver cups and bowls, or else in goblets of Venetian glass from Murano; the poorer sort had pots of earthenware bound or set in silver and perhaps pewter. As a rule not more than two or three dishes were served at a gentleman’s table where there was no company. This, however, was not the case when a feast was provided, or by the merchants for themselves. Then such meat as is killed and provided by the butcher was rejected as not worthy of the occasion.

“In such cases also geliffes of all colours mixed with a varietie in the representation of sundrie floures, herbs, trees, formes of beasts, fish, foules, and fruits, and thereunto marchpaine wrought with no small curiositie, tarts of diverse hewes and sundrie denominations, conserves of old fruites forren and home bred, suckets, codinacs, marmilats, marchpaine, sugerbread, gingerbread, florentines, wild foule, venison of all sorts, and sundrie outlandish confections, altogither seasoned with suger (which Plinie calleth Mel ex arundinibus, a devise not common nor greatlie used in old time at the table, but onlie in medicine, although it grew in Arabia, India and Sicilia), doo generally beare the swaie, besides infinite devises of our owne not possible for me to remember.” (Holinshed, vol. i. p. 167.)

Every kind of wine was served at these banquets, e.g. the fifty-six various kinds of “small wines” as Claret, White, Red, French, etc.; but also of the thirty kinds of Italian, German, Spanish, Canary, etc. And besides these here were the artificial drinks such as Hypocras and Wormwood wine, besides ale and beer.

The craftsman lived in great plenty: his diet was commonly beef, mutton, veal and pork; besides which he had brawn, bacon, pies of fruit, fowls, cheese, butter and eggs. At weddings, purifications, and so forth, the friends contributed each a dish of some kind, and the feasting that went on was incredible. At table the custom among the gentry and better sort was to observe great silence during the dinner, and on no account to show any sign of being the worse for the wine they had taken. Enough grain was grown in the country to supply it with bread; a good deal of bread was made of oats and rye; in times of dearth beans, peas, and lentils were ground up. Of home-made drinks besides ale and beer there were cider, perry, and, especially among the Welsh, mead or metheglin.

“There is a kind of swish swash made also in Essex, and diverse other places, with honicombs and water, which the homelie countrie wives, putting some pepper and a little other spice among, call mead, verie good in mine opinion for such as love to be loose bodied at large, or a little eased of the cough, otherwise it differeth so much from the true metheglin, as chalke from cheese. Truelie it is nothing else but the washing of the combes, when the honie is wroong out, and one of the best things that I know belonging thereto is, that they spend but little labour and lesse cost in making of the same, and therefore no great losse if it were never occupied.” (Holinshed, vol. i. p. 170.)

An oyster feast in the morning seems unusual and unexpected in a town of working men. We may read, however, how, on 30th July 1557, a company of citizens met in the cellar of Master Smyth and Master Gytton in Amber Lane, at eight o’clock in the morning. They devoured between them half a bushel of oysters, sitting upon hogsheads by candlelight; the oysters were accompanied by onions—was there no bread, or bread-and-butter? Only onions? And they drank with their oysters and onions copious bowls of red ale, claret, muscadel, and malmsey. It hardly seems a good beginning of the day so far as concerns work. In these degenerate days a repast of oysters and onions, with ale and muscadel, claret and malmsey, would prove a fatal feast indeed.

Walker & Cockerell.
MARRIAGE FEAST OF SIR H. UNTON
A detail from a painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London.

Here is a note on an Elizabethan ordinary:—

“It seemed that all who came thither had clocks in their bellies, for they all strucke into the dyning-roome much at aboute the very minute of feeding. Our traveller had all the eyes (that came in) throwne upon him (as being a stranger), and he as much tooke especiall notice of them. In obseruing of whom and of the place, he found that an ordinary was the onely Rendeuouz for the most ingenious, most terse, most trauaild and most phantastick gallant: the very Exchange for newes out of all countries; the only booke-sellers’ shop for conference of the best editions, that if a woman (to be a Lady) would cast away herselfe upon a knight, there a man should heare a catalogue of most of the richest London widowes; and last that it was a schoole where they were all fellowes of one forme, and that a country gentleman was of as great comming as the proudest justice that sat there on the bench aboue him; for hee that had the graine of the table with his bencher payd no more then he that placed himselfe beneath the salt.

The bolder hauing cleered the table, cardes and dice are served up to the boord; they that are full of coyne draw; they that haue little stand by and give ayme; the shuffle and cut on one side, the bones rattle on the other; long have they not plaide, but oathes fly up and downe the roome like haile-shot; if the poore dumb dice be but a little out of the square line of white, the pox and a thousand plagues breake their neckes out at a window.” (Antiquary, vol. xv.)

The following is contemporary evidence. It is taken from the Antiquarian Repertory (vol. iv. p. 512), 1558:—

“The people of London consume great quantities of beer, double and single [strong and small], and do not drink it out of glasses, but from earthen pots with silver handles and covers, and this even in houses of persons of middling fortunes; for as to the poor, the covers of their pots are only pewter, and in some places, such as villages, their pots for beer are made only of wood.

They eat much whiter bread than that commonly made in France, altho’ it was in my time as cheap as it is sold there. With their beer they have a custom of eating very soft saffron cakes, in which there are likewise raisins, which give a relish to the beer, of which there was formerly at Rye some as good as I ever drank. The houses of the people of this country are as well furnished as any in the world. Likewise, in this country you will scarcely find any nobleman, some of whose relations have not been beheaded.”

A few more notes on food. They drank brewis, that is, the pot liquor with bread in it; they were fond of pigs’ faces washed and dressed by the housewife; they bought tripe in Eastcheap, and poultry in Gracechurch Street; they drank wines with strange names: Pedro Ximenes, Charnico, Eleatica. The clerks took their dinner at the cooks’ shops by messes of so many; the portion of the whole mess was served in a dish and one divided the food, after which they helped themselves by seniority; a yeoman’s fare was bread, beef, and beer. The poor man was served from the basket which stood in the hall and received broken meats. The Sheriffs sent such baskets and other food to the prisons. The citizens’ proverbial Sunday dinner was neck of beef.


In the Elizabethan age, the poet, satirists, and preachers are so full of the subject of feminine fashions that it becomes of great importance. The increase of wealth and the growing power of the middle class give a greater prominence to women’s dress, while the improvement in the streets and the roads, the introduction of coaches and the development of outdoor amusements, theatres, shows, masques, gardens, and water-parties bring the wives and daughters of London more into the open.

Farthingale. Lady Runsdon.
From PlanchÉ’s CyclopÆdia of Costume.

It was a time of great expenditure upon clothes; the fashions were rich and costly; the custom was to make what we should call an ostentatious display of wealth. Ben Jonson and the dramatists are full of the extravagance of City madams. Not only did the ladies wear rich dresses; they prided themselves upon possessing a great number—as many as they could afford; in every house there was a room called the Wardrobe, in which the clothes of the household were hung up and carefully watched and kept from moth and decay.

At the beginning of her reign the Queen, who set the fashion, wore a small ruff, with a kerchief about her neck; a kind of coat of black velvet and ermine fastened at the throat only; with a waistcoat and kirtle below of white silk or silver embroidered with black; on the shoulders were humps, and the sleeves were large. Stubbes abuses the fashion because it is “proper only to a man, yet they blush not to wear it.” The cap or coif was adorned with strings of pearls. Lawn and cambric ruffs came in shortly after Elizabeth’s accession. A Flemish woman named Van der Plasse came over and set up as a starcher of ruffs. The mere mention of starch made Stubbes furiously angry; the ruff was a “master devil”; the devil himself invented starch.

LADY IN THE COURT OF QUEEN ELIZABETH, 1559.
NOBLE MATRON OF ENGLAND, 1577.
From Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses, 1772.

The custom of wearing whalebone to imprison the figure down to the hips also began early in the reign; a long stomacher descended in front, and from the hips stood out the farthingale, horizontally; a hideous thing which was perpetuated in the hoop for two hundred years. As for the gowns they were made, to the indignation of the satirist, “of silk, of velvet, of grograin, of taffata, and of fine cloth, ten, twenty, or forty shillings a yard”; they were decorated with lace two fingers broad, or with velvet edged with lace. The petticoats were also of the finest stuff, fringed with silk, and in addition, they had a kirtle also of fine stuff and fringed with lace and silk. It appears therefore that they had first a gown which was pulled back and showed the kirtle, which itself was pulled back and disclosed the petticoat.

ENGLISH LADY OF QUALITY, 1588
ENGLISH NOBLEMAN, 1559
From Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses, 1772.

Their stockings were made of the finest cloth, yarn, or worsted; silk stockings were presented to the Queen in her third year; knitted worsted stockings were introduced from Italy; the stockings of the fine ladies were “curiously indented in every point with quicks, clocks, and open seams.” They wore cork shoes made, like the petticoats and kirtle, of anything that was costly and rare and could be embroidered.

The fashions of wearing the hair were endless. It was curled in innumerable curls; it was crisped; it was built up over a cushion; it was laid out over the forehead; it was ornamented with jewels, gold, wreaths of silver and gold, and kept in place with hairpins; the women wore over their hair French hoods, hats, and caps; they wore cauls made of net-wire and cloth of gold and tinsel; they wore “lattice” caps with horns; and every merchant’s wife or mean gentlewoman indulged in these extravagant fashions.

“The cappe on hyre heade
Is lyke a sowes mawe;
Such another facion
I thynke never Jewe sawe.
Then fyne geare on the foreheade
After the newe trycke,
Though it coste a crowne or two,
What then? They may not stycke.
If theyr heyr wyl not take colour,
Then must they buy newe,
And laye it out in tussocks;
This thynge is too true,
At each syde a tussocke
As bygge as a ball.
Hyr face faire payned
To make it shine bright
And her bosom all bare,
Hyr mydle braced in
As small as a wande;
And some buy water of qyre
At the paste wyf’s hande.”

As for the merchants’ wives, their dress is described in the following lines:—

“You wore
Satin on solemn days, a chain of gold,
A velvet hood, rich borders, and sometimes
A dainty miniver cap, a silver pin,
Headed with a pearl worth threepence.”

It was a common practice to entice little children into private places and unfrequented courts there to cut off their long hair to be made up into false hair for women. Long and beautiful hair was in great request by the fashionable dames of the time. Brides especially went to the altar with flowing locks, the longer the better.

“Come, come, my Lord, untie your folded thoughts,
And let them dangle loose as a bride’s hair.”

In a word, the Elizabethan fine lady was very fine indeed; much more artificial than her grandmother, and much less beautiful therefore. She painted her face; she dyed her hair, sometimes changing the colour from time to time, a practice which explains the different colour of the hair in Queen Mary’s portraits. She used perfumes copiously; she carried a large feather fan with a costly handle of silver or ivory. She also carried a mirror hanging from her girdle with which to contemplate the thing she loved best—her own face, made up, painted, and set in the frame of ruff and cap; strings of pearls were round the cap and a gold chain round the throat. And she frequented, but secretly, the wise women—there were scores of them in the city—who knew secrets ineffable—secrets that were like magic; perhaps they were magic—for the improvement and preservation of the complexion, the brightness of the eyes, the gloss of the hair, the softness and smoothness of the arm and the throat, and everything that was open to the gaze of man. Ben Jonson preserves as in a phonograph the words and voice of the wise woman.

FOR LADIES’ COMPLEXIONS
Wit. They have
Water of gourds, of radish, the white beans,
Flowers of glass, of thistles, rose-marine,
Raw honey, mustard seed, and bread dough baked,
The crums of bread, goat’s-milk, and whites of eggs,
Camphire, and lily-roots, the fat of swans,
Marrow of veal, white pigeons, and pine-kernals,
The seeds of nettles, purseline, and hare’s-gall:
Lemons, thin-skinn’d——
Lady E. How her ladyship has studied
All excellent things!
Wit. But ordinary, madam:
No, the true rarities are the alvagada
And argentata of queen Isabella.
Lady T. Ay, what are their ingredients, gentle madam?
Wit. Your allum scagliola, or pol di pedra:
And zuccarino: turpentine of Abezzo,
Wash’d in nine waters: soda dilevants,
Or your fern ashes: benjamin di gotta:
Grasso di serpe: porceletto marino:
Oils of lentisco: zucche mugia: make
The admirable varnish for the face,
Gives the right lustre: but two drops rubb’d on
With a piece of scarlet, makes a lady of sixty
Look as sixteen. But above all, the water
Of the white hen, of the lady Estifania’s.
Lady T. O, ay, that same, good madam, I have heard of:
How is it done?
Wit. Madam, you take your hen,
Plume it, and skin it, cleanse it o’ the inwards:
Then chop it bones and all: add to four ounces:
Of carravicins, pipitas, soap of Cyprus,
Make the decoction, strain it: then distil it,
And keep it in your gallipot well gliddered:
Three drops preserves from wrinkles, warts, spots, moles,
Blemish, or sun-burnings: and keeps the skin
In decimo sexto, ever bright and smooth,
As any looking-glass: and indeed is call’d
A ceruse, neither cold or heat, oglio reale:
And mix’d with oil of myrrh and the red gilliflower,
Call’d cataputia, and flowers of rovistico,
Makes the best muta or dye of the whole world.”

The stuffs worn by gentlemen were taffeta; mockado—an inferior velvet; grogram—a cheaper taffeta; quellio for the ruff; tamin; sendall; and many others which are now mere words. The poorer women, not to be outdone more than was necessary, bought the same clothes, made in the same style, of the fripperer, or broker, who dealt in second-hand clothes. Now the great danger of buying second-hand clothes was that you might at the same time buy the plague.

Men were never so affected and so splendid in their dress as in the sixteenth century. They wore earrings; they wore costly brooches in their hats; the great nobles wore strings of pearls; they had thumb rings; they carried jewelled daggers; they carried a case of toothpicks with them; they carried their own napkins to the taverns; they had a favourite lock of hair, which they curled and treated tenderly, tying a rose to it or a bunch of ribbons; they wore their hair and their beards in fantastic ways, either after the French, Italian, or Spanish manner. As for the younger men, they played the usual tricks. That is to say, they tried to make the waist small; they wore “grulled calves”; they “bleached their hands at midnight, gumming and triding their beards.” Sleeves were slashed; girdles were hung with mirrors; the head was set in a ruff; high-heeled shoes raised the stature; men’s cloaks were of velvet trimmed with lace; buttons, buckles, and clasps were of gold; the hats were adorned with feathers.

WEALTHY MERCHANT OF LONDON, 1588
From Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses, 1772.

Tavern life in the time of the Tudors was picturesque and pleasant. The taverns were frequented not only by gallants and merchants, but by ladies. Suppers, it is true, were given to bona robas; the viol de gamba played for companies not always the most respectable; but there were rooms which the City madams used as a resort for parties of their own friends; and that without any question of offence.

PAGE BOY, TIME OF EDWARD VI
From Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses, 1772.

The City Trained Bands were gorgeous in white doublets, with the City arms before and behind; the men-servants wore gorgeous liveries. Dress to a certain extent indicated class. Law and Divinity wore black. Furred gowns and satin sleeves marked the Sheriff or the Alderman. The plain citizen wore a cloak of brown or chocolate colour; the craftsman wore a doublet of cloth, or leather, with a leather belt, and in winter an overcoat down to the knees or the ankles. The following is the description of a runaway page:—

“One doblet of yelow million fustian, th’one halfe therof buttoned with peche-colour buttons, and th’other halfe laced downewardes; one payer of peche-colour hose, laced with smale tawnye lace; a graye hat with a copper edge rounde aboute it, with a bande p’cell of the same hatt; a payer of watchet (blue) stockings. Likewise he hath twoe clokes; th’one of vessey collor, garded with twoe gards of black clothe and twisted lace of carnacion colour, and lyned with crymsone bayes; and th’other is a red shipp russet colour, striped about th’cape, and downe the fore face, twisted with two rows of twisted lace, russet and gold buttons afore and uppon the sholdier, being of the clothe itselfe, set with the said twisted lace, and the buttons of russet silke and golde.”

Sir William Russell. 1590.
From PlanchÉ’s Cyclopoedia of Costume.

’Prentices wore a dress very much like that of the Blue Coat Boys, but with a flat cap. A citizen’s servant wore a blue livery. Knots of ribbons were tied on the shoes. The women gathered round the conduit and the bakehouse for gossip. The tradesmen issued their own tokens which passed current. Girls who served in the shops were taken on Sundays by their sweethearts to Islington or Pimlico. Shops were furnished with cudgels for the use of ’prentices in case of a fight. The cudgels were called by various endearing names, but the favourite name was a “Plymouth Cloak.” Clothes were washed at the riverside on wood or a flat stone. The love of fine dress is charged as a fault of the fair Londoners. Why they should be blamed for desiring what all men desire, viz. the appearance of bravery and splendour, is hard to understand. The sumptuary laws which were passed from time to time appear to have been intended not so much to prevent the gratification of this instinctive desire as to make different classes proclaim their rank and station by their dress. A tradesman, in fact, must not appear as a gentleman; nor a craftsman as a master. In a word, there was a constant feeling that rank should be indicated by outward apparel, and that every one should proclaim his station by his garments. Thus the Act of 1464 ordered

“That none below the dignity of a lord or knight of the garter, or their wives, should be allowed to wear purple, or any manner of cloth of gold, velvet or sable furs, under a penalty of 20 marks. That none below knights, bachelors, mayors, and aldermen, and their wives, should wear satin or ermine, under a penalty of 10 marks. That none but such as had possessions to the amount of 40s. per annum should be permitted to wear fustian, bustian, or scarlet cloth, and no fur, but black or white lamb, on forfeiture of 40s.

That no yeoman, nor any under that degree, should be allowed to stuff or bolster their doublets, to wear short cloaks or jackets, or shoes with pikes passing the length of eleven inches, under a penalty of 20s.

That no husbandman should use broad cloth at above 11s. a yard, nor hose above 14d. a pair: nor their wives kerchiefs whereof the price should exceed 12d. nor girdles harnessed with silver, upon pain of forfeiting at every default 40d.

And because foreign kerchiefs were brought into the country, and sold at such extravagant prices, it was ordained that any one selling lawne, nyfell, umple, or other manner of kerchief whereof the price should exceed 10s. the seller should forfeit a mark for every one that he sold above that price.”

COURT OF WARDS AND LIVERIES IN THE TIME OF ELIZABETH
From PlanchÉ’s CyclopÆdia of Costume.

The person at the head of the table appears to be Lord Burghley; on either side of him is a judge, who may have been there as assessors. The next on the left side is Thomas Seckford, who held the office of Surveyor from 1580 to 1589. The one opposite may be Richard Kingsmill, Attorney from 1582 to 1589. The third on the left side may be George Goring, Receiver-General from 1583 to 1593. The opposite person with a book open may be William Tooke, Auditor 1551 to 1588. The three persons at the lower end of the table are clerks. At the left hand side next the end is the Usher with a rod. In 1578 Marmaduke Servant held this office. Opposite to him on the other side stands the Messenger, who in 1565 was Leonard Taylor. This picture was probably made about 1585.

To those who take the worthy Philip Stubbes quite seriously and literally, the Elizabethan age will appear more than commonly wicked and unscrupulous; to those who are ready to make allowance for the exaggerated indignation of the satirist, the narrowness of the Puritan, and the real and genuine craving after equity, justice, and honesty, it will become manifest that the age contained, like every other age, grave abuses, great injustices, and much small meanness and trickery. Laws were passed attempting to restrain the tricks of clothiers, tanners, shoemakers, and “brokers,” i.e. pawnbrokers and marine store-dealers. These laws failed, as all such laws must fail, because men who wish to cheat will cheat in spite of any laws that may be passed. In truth there is very little in Stubbes but does not belong to every town and every age. He laments the pride of the age. So does every satirist. Especially he laments Pride of Apparel. Take their hats for instance:—

“Sometimes they use them sharp on the crowne, pearking up like a spere, or shafte of a steeple, standing a quarter of a yard above the crowne of their heades; some more, some lesse, as please the phantasies of their inconstant mindes. Othersome be flat and broad on the crowne, like the battlementes of a house. An other sort have round crownes, sometymes with one kinde of bande, sometymes with an other; now blacke, now white, now russet, now red, now grene, now yellowe, now this, nowe that, never content with one colour or fashion two daies to an ende....

And as the fashions bee rare and straunge, so is the stuffe wherof their hattes be made, divers also; for some are of silke, some of velvet, some of taffatie, some of sarcenet, some of wooll, and, whiche is more curious, some of a certaine kind of fine haire.... And so common a thinge it is, that everie servingman, countrieman, and other, even all indifferently, do weare of these hattes. For he is of no account or estimation amongst men, if hee have not a velvet or a taffatie hatte, and that muste bee pincked and cunningly carved of the beste fashion. And good profitable hattes bee these, for the longer you weare them the fewer holes they haue. Besides this, of late there is a new fashion of wearyng their hattes sprung up amongst them, which they father upon the Frenchmen, namely, to weare them without bandes; but how unseemely (I will not saie how assie) a fashion that is, let the wise judge; notwithstanding, howe ever it be, if it please them, it shall not displease me. And an other sort (as phantasticall as the rest) are content with no kinde of hat without a greate bunche of feathers of divers and sundrie colours, peakyng on top of their heades, not unlike (I dare not saie) Cockescombes, but as sternes of pride and ensigns of vanitie.” (Stubbes, 1836 edition, p. 38.)

Robert de Vere, Earl of Oxford.
John Clinch, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas. 1584.
Sir Edward Coke, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench. 1613.
From PlanchÉ’s CyclopÆdia of Costume.

Marriages took place at an earlier age than is now common, both for men and for women. An unmarried girl of twenty was regarded as an old maid. Thus in the Crowne Garland of Golden Roses the maiden laments her virginity:—

“Twenty winters have I seen,
And as many summers greene,
’Tis long enough to breed despaire
So long a maidenhead to beare;
’Tis a burden of such waight
That I would faine be eas’d of’t straight;
But alasse! I am afraid
I shall live and die a maid.”

The betrothal took place forty days before the wedding:—

“A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strengthened by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal’d in my function, by my testimony.”

To make the betrothal binding there were, therefore, four points to be observed: (1) The joining of hands; (2) the exchange of kisses; (3) the exchange of rings; (4) the testimony of witnesses.

After the betrothal, the wedding:—

“The procession accompanying a rural bride, of some consequence, or of the middle rank, to church was as follows:—The bride, being attired in a gown of sheep’s russet, and a kirtle of fine worsted, her hair attired with a ‘billement of gold’ (decorated with long chains of gold), and her hair as yellow as gold hanging down behind her, which was curiously combed and plaited, was led to the church between two sweet boys, with bride laces and rosemary tied about their silken sleeves. There was carried before her a fair bride-cup of silver, gilt, filled with hippocras and garnished with a goodly branch of rosemary, which stands for constancy. The cup was hung about with silken ribbands of all colours. Musicians followed, then a group of maidens, some bearing bride-cakes, others garlands of wheat finely gilded; and thus they passed on to the church.”

The wedding customs were very pretty. The bride, like all unmarried women, wore a dress which exposed a portion of her bosom—you may see how far the exposure went by looking at any portrait of Queen Elizabeth; she wore her hair flowing. Some girls married very early, even at fifteen, which was considered quite old enough to undertake the duties of a wife. On the way to and from the church, wheat was thrown on the head of the bride, just as rice is thrown now, as a symbol of fruitfulness to follow. The wedding guests wore scarves, gloves, and favours; cake—the bride-cake—was taken to the Church and distributed after the ceremony; brooches were also given to the young men and maidens present. Then the cup of wine was sent round: the “knitting” cup, or the “contracting” cup; and then, carrying in her hand a piece of gilt rosemary, the bride led the way home, where, for three days, festivities, masques, mumming, music, dancing, feasting, and drinking were carried on. In some of the churches special pews were provided for newly married couples, who sat in them and listened, while the preacher discoursed on “The Bride’s Bush” or “The Wedding Garment Beautified.”

In 1584 the Puritans got in a Bill permitting to marry at all seasons and on every day of the year. It had been the endeavour of the Bishops to keep Lent as a season in which there was to be no marrying or giving in marriage. Meantime, the keeping of Lent remained, if only as an outward sign of revolt against the Puritans.

When there was a christening it was conducted in the mother’s bedroom. After the service, the sponsors presented “Postle Spoons”; then, of course, they sat down to a solid feast, or, at least, a drink—nothing could be done without a drink; comfits were handed round with the wine, and it was not unusual for some of the guests to go away royally drunk.

THE CHRISTENING OF PRINCE ARTHUR
From a historical print in the British Museum.

An example of a marriage feast is that of one Coke, citizen, with the daughter of Mr. Nicolls, Master of London Bridge. My Lord Mayor and all the Aldermen, with many ladies and other worshipful men and women, were present at the wedding. Mr. Bacon, an eminent divine, preached the wedding sermon. After the discourse the company went home to the Bridge House to dinner, where was as good cheer as ever was known—Stow says so, and he knew very well—with all manner of music and dancing, and at night a masque till midnight. But this was only half the feast, for next day the wedding was again kept at the Bridge House with great cheer. After supper more mumming, after that more masques. One was in cloth of gold, the next consisted of friars, and the third of nuns. First the friars and the nuns danced separately, one company after the other, and then they danced together.

At a funeral the mourners first assembled at the house where lay the coffin. Here the clergyman made a speech on the virtues of the deceased. On the coffin stood a jug or pot of wine which was passed round as a loving-cup. Then every one laid branches on the coffin; money was given to the children; to the mourners ribbons, scarves, and gloves were distributed; rosemary was laid in the coffin and placed in the mourners’ hats; as for what followed, we may take the funerals described by Machyn. First, the Company to which the deceased belonged, attended in their livery; the Company of Clerks attended the funerals of the better class and sang over the grave; black gowns were given to as many poor men and poor women as the condition of the deceased permitted. When a great citizen died, like Master Husee, “squire and a grett marchand ventorer and of Muskovia and haberdasher,” he was followed by a hundred mourners; he had five pennons of arms, and a “cotte armur,” and “two heralds of arms, Master Clarenshux and Master Somerset.” He was attended by the Choir of St. Paul’s and by the Company of Clerks; they buried him at St. Martin’s, Ludgate Hill; the church was hung with black and with escutcheons of arms; the Reader of St. Paul’s preached “both days.”

The order and maner of burying in the Fields such as dyed in prison, and namely, of William Wiseman.

Master Flammock, grocer, who died in 1560, was apparently a Puritan. Many gowns were bestowed by his executors; he was taken to the church without singing or clerks, and was buried with a psalm, “after Genevay,” and a sermon.

Lady Dobbes, the wife of Sir Richard Dobbes, was buried with a pennon of armes and four dozen and five escutcheons; many black gowns were given. “Master Recherdson mad the sermon, and the clarkes syngyng and a dolle of money of xx nobulles, and a grete dinner after and the compane of the Skynners in ther leverey.”

Master Hulson, scrivener, was one of the Masters in Bridewell; so the Masters of Bridewell attended his funeral with green staves in their hands, and all their children, “and there was great syngyng as ever was heard.” And when we have added that after most of these notes occur this passage, “And all dune to the place, fir there was a great dener,” we have said all that need be said about a civic funeral.

One detail is not mentioned by Machyn. This is the custom observed till quite recently in Yorkshire, of hanging a garland or wreath of ribbons in the chancel of a church when a girl died unmarried. This custom had many forms, one or other of which was certainly observed in London. It was considered unlucky to carry away a piece of ribbon; if the wreath dropped to pieces, all the pieces were buried in the churchyard.

Persons of distinction continued to be buried within the walls of the church.

Some Companies and some parish churches still preserve funeral palls which have been presented to them at various times for the use of the members and parishioners. Thus, in May 1848, Mr. William Wansey, Prime Warden of the Fishmongers’ Company, exhibited a funeral pall of most beautiful and elaborate workmanship, formed of cloth of gold richly embroidered.

“This interesting relic has been preserved in the possession of the Fishmongers’ Company, having doubtless been originally used at the interments of its more distinguished members. No account of the acquisition of this fine specimen of decoration, or of the precise period when it was executed, has been preserved, and the earlier records of the Company were destroyed in the fire of London; its date may be attributed to the earlier part of the sixteenth, or the close of the previous century. The designs which decorate the head and foot of the pall are precisely similar, and the two sides likewise correspond exactly in design. On the former is presented St. Peter, the patron of fishermen, receiving from the Saviour the keys of heaven and hell; the embroideries on the two sides represent St. Peter enthroned, crowned with the tiara, with angels kneeling one on either side, throwing their censers towards him. On each side of this subject is introduced an escutcheon of the arms of the Company, with supporters. Nothing can exceed the delicacy of execution displayed in this remarkable specimen of needle-work: the countenances are full of expression, and the colours are generally remarkable for freshness and brilliancy. Another funeral pall of great beauty is in the possession of the Saddlers’ Company, and has been accurately represented in Mr. Shaw’s Dresses and Decorations.” (ArchÆologia, xxxi.)


By an Act of Parliament, 27 Henry II., 1181, called ‘An Assize of Arms,’ confirmed and enlarged by 13 Edward I., 1285, every man, according to his estate and degree, was obliged to provide a determinate quantity of such arms and armour as were then in use.[11] Constables were provided to see that their arms were correct, and proper persons, at stated periods, were appointed to muster and train them. Every Freeman that had in chattels or rent to the value of sixteen marks was to have a coat of mail (loricam), a helmet (cassidem), a shield, and a lance; and so in proportion to his wealth. Another Assize of Arms was passed 36 Henry III., 1252, and in 1285 the Statute of Winchester. These made some alterations in the qualification and in the weapon. By 27 Edward I., 1298, armed horses were ordered to be provided. The Statute of 4 and 5 Philip and Mary, c. 3, 1537, changed the weapons for those of more modern construction. It also provided that all persons having an estate valued at £1000 or more should, after the 1st of May 1558, keep six horses and ten light horses, with furniture, etc. By the 33 Henry VIII., c. 5, Commissioners were appointed to see that the inhabitants of cities and boroughs were properly provided with arms, etc. Thus cities, according to their wealth or position, were obliged to have ready so many trained men. In 1335 the City of London provided twenty-five men in arms and 500 archers for the war against France. In 1360, 1400 to serve in France. Henry VIII. called upon the City to supply him with 1500 men in July 1545. The French threatening the Isle of Wight, on the 4th of August 1545, the citizens sent 1000 soldiers to Dover. In 1557 Queen Mary caused a levy to be made of 1000 horsemen, 4000 footmen, and 2000 pioneers, to assist Philip of Spain against the King of France. In 1558 another was made to protect Calais; and in 1560 another to assist the Queen’s Troops against the French, who were besieging Leith, in Scotland. In 1562 a large number were sent to serve at Havre de Grace. Orders were received from the Council in 1578 to keep 2000 men in readiness. The Lord Mayor, in 1580, issued a precept assessing the Companies for providing and furnishing 1000 men. The Stationers’ Company had to provide twenty men, thirteen shot, and seven pikemen. The cost of their provision, furnishing, and training was £20:10:4; and for powder and other charges, £11:3s. In 1585, 4000 men, with armour, ensigns, drums, fifes, and other furniture for the wars, the greater part being shot, mustered at Mile End, 14th April, and were reviewed by Queen Elizabeth, 18th May. In 1596 the City twice raised, in less than twelve hours, 1000 men, completely armed, for the relief of the French, besieged by the Spaniards, in Calais. In 1589, 1000 men were provided, fully equipped, to assist in placing Henry of Navarre on the French throne. In 1600, 500 men for service in Ireland. In 1624, 2000 for the Low Countries. In 1638–40, 200 men in all, for service against the Scots.”

There was an ancient and time-honoured march, known as the “old English march,” which fell into disuse some time before the accession of Charles the First, when Sir Edward Cecil, Lord Wimbledon, persuaded the King to issue a warrant, ordering it to be revived. The point raised is extremely interesting. The Warrant runs thus—it is dated 7th Feb. 1632:—“Whereas the ancient custome of Nations hath ever bene to use one certaine and constant forme of march in the warres, whereby to be distinguished one from another: and whereas the march of this our English Nation, so famous in all honourable achievements and glorious warres of this our Kingdome in forraigne parts (being, by the approbation of Strangers themselves, confessed and acknowledged the best of all Marches) was, through the negligence and carelessness of drummers, and by long discontinuance, so altered and changed from the ancient gravitie and majestie thereof, as it was in danger utterly to have bene lost and forgotten. It pleased our late deare brother prince Henry to revive and rectifie the same, by ordayning an establishment of one certaine Measure which was beaten in his presence at Greenwich, anno 1610. In confirmation whereof, wee are graciously pleased, at the instance and humble sute of our right trusty, etc., Edward, Viscount Wimbledon, etc., to set down and ordaine this present establishment hereunder expressed. Willing and commanding all drummers within our Kingdome of England and principalitie of Wales exactly and precisely to observe the same as well in this our Kingdome as abroad in the service of any forraigne prince or state without any addition or alteration whatsoever. To the end that so ancient, famous, and commendable a custome may be preserved as a patterne and precedent to all posteritie.”

YEOMAN OF THE GUARD, TIME OF HENRY VIII.
E. Gardner’s Collection.

About the time of Henry the Seventh we first find mention made of coat- and conduct-money, a clothing allowance and subsistence for men on joining the army, which was sometimes advanced by the counties where the men were raised, to be afterwards repaid by the Government. These charges varied according to the times. In 1492 the conduct-money was calculated at the rate of 6d. for every twenty miles each soldier should march, to be reckoned from his residence to the place of joining the army; each soldier to swear to the number of the miles marched by him. In 1574 it was fixed at a halfpenny per mile. In 1627, coat-money to have been settled at 12s. 6d., and conduct-money at 8d. per diem, accounting twelve miles for a day’s march. In 1640 it was 8d. per diem, but the day’s march was not less than fifteen miles.

In dress and weapons armour had not yet disappeared, but it was much less cumbrous. The corselet, with a morion, or open head-piece, and thigh guards were still in general use; but plates of armour were frequently fastened to any ordinary tunic for the defence of the shoulders, arms, and chest. The pike-men, with their twenty-foot pikes, wore corselets, and were much disinclined to march more than five or six miles a day, owing to the weight of their dresses and weapons. The bill-men were in lighter armour, and their weapons were shorter than the pike, but very effective against cavalry. The bill was a hook-shaped blade fastened to a wooden staff, with a projecting prong at the end and back. Pike-men and bill-men were employed in protecting archers from cavalry and in covering such field-guns as were in use. Civic guards and watchmen were armed with bills. The archers wore a buff-padded jacket, with sometimes an under-shirt of light chain-armour. A jerkin, of leather or cloth, was indiscriminately worn by all ranks. The firearms were of two kinds, leaving out of view artillery. The first could be fired with a rest, and the second were practically very light artillery. The harquebus and the small petronel belonged to the first class, and the culverin, the long petronel, and the muschite (from the French mosquet, a hawk) to the second. Two men were required to handle the weapons of the second class. They had long barrels. They were fired with a match, the barrels resting on an iron fork sticking in the ground. The harquebus was originally a musket-stock with a bow fixed to it; but the term was now used to mean the long-barrelled hand-gun with a touch hole and priming pan and trigger on the right side, which was rapidly driving out other weapons and rendering armour useless.

A KNIGHT IN ARMOUR
From Meyrick’s Inquiry into Antient Armour.
PIKEMAN
From Grose’s Military Antiquities.

Musters of the citizens were frequent in the reign of Henry the Eighth and Queen Elizabeth.[12] A history of the muster of the citizens on the 8th of May 1539, the 31st of Henry the Eighth, is given at length in the Records of the Corporation, Journal 14, folio 166. “They marched from Mile end to Whitehall, and from thence to Leadenhall, Sir Wm. Forman, Knt., Lord Mayor was in bright harness, whereof the curass, the maynsers, gaunteletts and other parts were gilt upon the crests and bordures, and with that he had a coat of black velvet with a rich cross embroidered, and a great massy chain of gold about his neck, and on his head a cap of black velvet with a rich jewel, he had a goodly jennett richly trapped, with embroidery of gold set upon crimson velvet. About him attended 4 foot men, all apparelled in white satin hose and all puffed over with white sarcenet.” In 1559, July 2 and 3, according to Stow’s Chronicle, edit. 1615, p. 639, “the Citizens mustered before Queen Elizabeth in Greenwich Park, 1400 men being present; 800 pikemen in fine corselets; 400 harquebuts in shirts of maile, with morins; and 200 halberters in Alman rivets.” A large number of the citizens were also present. The price of armour at this date, as given in several records, was for “a Corslett, 30s.; Harquebus complete, 8s.; a Murrion, 6s. 8d.; Almaine rivette, 10s.; a musket, flask, touch-box and tassels, 17s. 6d.; Gunpowder, 12d. per pound.”

Here, for instance (ArchÆologia, vol. xxxii. p. 32), is an account of a muster before Henry the Eighth.

“Than the sayd lorde mayor and hys brethren assemblyd thym selffs ageyn, and after longe consultac’on, they fyrst determyned, that no alyen, although he were a denyzen, shuld mustre, but onely mere Englysshmen; ffurther they thought yt not convenyent that all the hole number of Englysshmen shulde mustre and goo owte of the cytye for especyall consyderac’ons; nor that suche as had jakks, brygandynes, or cotes of fence, shulde goo yn the mustre, but onely they appoynted syche whiche were hable p’sones, & hadde whyte harnes with whyte cotes, bowes, arrowes, halberds, bills or polaxes; and none other except soche as bare moryse pykes or handgonnes, whiche onely hadde plents and sculls, with whyte cotes and whyte cappes with fethers; and all thys company was comaunded to be yn whyte hose and clenly shodde. Whan yt was knowen that the Kyng hymselff wolde se the Mustre, to se howe gladly ev’y man p’pared hym, what desyre ev’y man had to do hys prince s’rvice yt was a joyfull syght to beholde of ev’y Inglysshman. Than ev’y man of substance provyded hymself a cote of sylke, & garnished theyre bassenetts with turbes of sylke sett with broches, ouches and fethers; some had theyre harnes and polaxes gylted, some had theyr breastplates cov’yd with sylvr bullyon—ev’y man devysed to doo hys best to s’ve hys prynce and of thys sorte the most parte had chaynes of golde. The meaner sorte were yn cotes of white cotton, clenly hosed and shodde with the armes of the cytye before & behynde. The constables were all yn jouetts of whyte sylke over theyre harnes, with battayl axes gylt, & chaynes abowte theyre necks. The sayd lorde mayor, aldermen, recorder, shryves, & such as hadde bene shryeves, were yn whyte harnes, & o’vr that cotes of black velvet, with the armes of the cytye rychely pyrled and embroderyd upon the same, with great chaynes of golde about theyre necks, mountyd on good horsses well styrryng & rychely trapped, with battell axes yn theyre handes, & cappes of velvett yn theyre heddes; and ev’y alderman had iiij halberdars yn whyte sylke or buffe cotes attendyng on thej, with gylt halbards, and the mayer had xvj apparrellyd as you shall here hereafter; all theys were captayns of the bataylls, as you shall p’ceyve yn theyre settyng forward. The chamberlayn and councellors of the cytye, & the aldermens deputyes whiche were assigned to be wyffelers on horsebacke, were all yn cotes of whyte damask over theyr harnes, mountyd on good horsses, well trappyd, with great chaynes abowte theyre necks, and propre javilyns or battle axes yn theyre handes, with cappes of velvett on theyre heddes with ryche ouches. The wyffelers on fote were iiij C. propre lyght p’sones app’ellyd yn whyte sylke or buffe jerkyns, without harnes, or whyte hose and whyte shoes, every man havyng a slaugh sworde or a javelyn to kepe the people yn araye, with chaynes abowte theyre necks and fethers yn theyre cappes. The mynstrells also were all yn whyte, and so were the standard berers, which were the tallyst men yn ev’y warde, all app’ellyd yn sylke, for whome were made XXX newe standards with the devyses of the Cytye.... To see howe full of lordes, ladyes, and gentilwomen the wyndowes yn every strete were, and howe the strets of the cytye were replenysshed with people, many men wolde have thought that they that musteryd had rather byn straungers than cytezens, consydering that the stretes everywhere were so full of people, whiche was to straungers a great mervell. To reporte what good order the cytezens kept yn passing forward; what payne the wyffelers bothe on horseback & fote tooke yn keepyng the soulders yn araye; howe ryche the juells, chaynes, and app’ell were; how many goodly, talle, & comley men were there, & the nombre of the same, my wytt ys insuffycyent to exp’sse or my penne to write. Wherfore, I remytt theys poynts to theym that sawe and nombret them, and desyeryng them to remember the nombre that passed yn the muster, and not to forget yn theyr accompt theym that taryed at home or stode yn the stretes, for the one without the other sheweth not the hole puyssance of the cytye. But, whatsoever was doon and what payne so ever was takyn, all was to the cytezens a great gladness.”

MUSKETEER
From Grose’s Military Antiquities.

It will thus be seen that military array had arrived at a new and quite another kind of splendour. Armour had not gone out, but it was less cumbrous, and people believed less in its value. It availed to a certain extent against sword and pike, but not at all against bullet. The pikemen who carried pikes eighteen or twenty feet in length wore a breastplate; the billmen had lighter armour, their weapon was a hook or a staff. Both pikemen and billmen were employed in covering field-guns against cavalry. Watchmen also carried bills. The firearms were the harquebus or arquebus; the small petronel; the culverin; the long petronel and the musket. The larger kinds were fired with the barrel resting on a fork stuck in the ground. Swords and daggers were, of course, carried, and gentlemen wore expensive chain and plate armour.

Henry VIII. had a wonderful suit of armour made in Germany. It was engraved with illustrations from the lives of martyrs and saints, some of which are reproduced on p. 382, from the illustrations given in ArchÆologia.


This chapter is inserted in the Tudor period because the ’Prentice in that century arrived at the height of his power and importance, chiefly as a disturber of the peace. The following pages sum up the regulations on the subject from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century, both inclusive.

The importance of the apprentice system caused many ordinances and regulations to be passed from time to time. Thus in 1406 no persons were allowed to put out their children as apprentices who had not land to the value of 20 shillings a year, a regulation intended, in a populous town, to keep up the status of trades and crafts. The Act was, however, found impossible to work, and was repealed in 1429 “to the great satisfaction of the citizens.” Later on, in 1486, another attempt was made to restrict the Freedom of the City, and to keep out “mean and improper” persons by an ordinance that no apprentice should be taken nor freedom given except to such as were “gentlemen born”—this is Maitland’s statement—“agreeable to the clause in the oath given to every freeman at the time he was made free, in these words, ‘Ye shall take none apprentice but if he be freeborn: that is to say, no Bondman’s son, nor the son of any alien.’” It does not appear, however, from the oath, that the freeman was required to be a gentleman unless every freeborn person is a gentleman. How could a blacksmith or a journeyman saddler be a gentleman?

In 1527 the Common Council passed a stringent rule as to the treatment of Apprentices:—

“‘If hereafter any Freeman or Freewoman of this City take any Apprentice, and within the Term of seven Years suffer the same Apprentice to go at his large Liberty and Pleasure; and within or after the said Term agree with his said Apprentice for a certain Sum of Money, or otherwise, for his said service, and within or after the End of the said Term, the said Freeman present the said Apprentice to the Chamberlain of the City, and by good Deliberation, and upon his Oath made to the same City, the same Freeman or Freewoman assureth and affirmeth to the said Chamberlain, that the said Apprentice hath fully served his said Term as Apprentice: Or if any Freeman or Freewoman of this City take any Apprentice which at the Time of the said taking hath any Wife: Or, if any Freeman or Freewoman of this City, give any Wages to his or her Apprentice, or suffer the said Apprentices to take any Part of their own Getting of Gains: Or if any Freeman or Freewoman of this City hereafter colour any foreign Goods, or from henceforth buy or sell for any Person or Persons, or with or to any Person or Persons, being foreign or Foreigners, Cloths, Silks, Wine, Oils, or any other Goods or Merchandize, whatsoever they be, whether he take any Thing or Things for his or their Wages or Labour, or not: Or if any Person or Persons being Free of this City, by any Colour or deceitful Means, from henceforth do buy, sell, or receive of any Apprentice within this City, any Money, Goods, Merchandize, or Wares, without the Assent or Licence of his Master or Mistress; and upon Examination duly proved before the Chamberlain of the said City for the Time being, and the same reported by the Mouth of the said Chamberlain, at a Court to be holden by the Mayor and the Aldermen of the same City in their Council-Chamber: That as well the said Master, as the said Apprentice, shall for evermore be disfranchised. God save the King!’” (Maitland, vol. i. pp. 229–230.)

To which was added an admonition to the Apprentices:—

“‘Ye shall constantly and devoutly on your Knees, every Day, serve God, Morning and Evening, and make Conscience in the due Hearing of the Word preached, and endeavour the right Practice thereof on your Life and Conversation. You shall do diligent and faithful Service to your Master for the Time of your Apprenticeship, and deal truly in what you shall be trusted. You shall often read over the Covenants of your Indenture, and see and endeavour yourself to perform the same, to the utmost of your Power. You shall avoid all evil Company, and all Occasions which may tend to draw you to the same; and make speedy Return when you shall be sent of your Masters and Mistresses Business. You shall be of fair, gentle, and lowly Speech and Behaviour towards all Men, and especially to all your Governors. And according to your Carriage, expect your Reward, for Good or Ill, from God and your Friends.’” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 230.)

The history of “Evil May Day” (p. 24) is an illustration of the growing turbulence of the ‘Prentices and the relaxation of order and discipline in the City generally. The wards, in fact, had become too thickly populated for the old and simple rule of a peripatetic alderman and his sergeants: the turbulence was a sign of their weakness; yet three hundred years were to pass before an efficient night and day police could be established as the only remedy.

In the year 1582 an ordinance concerning the apparel of the ‘Prentice shows still more clearly that he was getting out of hand. It was enacted by the Lord Mayor and Common Council:—

“That from henceforth no Apprentice whatsoever should presume: 1. To wear any Apparel but what he receives from his Master. 2. To wear no Hat within the City and Liberty thereof, nor any thing instead thereof, than a Woollen Cap, without any Silk in or about the same. 3. To wear no Ruffles, Cuffs, loose Collar, nor other thing than a Ruff at the Collar, and that only of a Yard and a half long. 4. To wear no Doublets but what were made of canvas, Fustian, Sackcloth, English Leather, or Woollen Cloth, and without being enriched with any manner of Gold, Silver, or Silk. 5. To wear no other coloured Cloth, or Kersey, in Hose or Stockings, than White, Blue, or Russet. 6. To wear little Breeches, of the same Stuffs as the Doublets, and without being stitched, laced or bordered. 7. To wear a plain upper Coat of Cloth or Leather, without Pinking, Stitching, Edging or Silk about it. 8. To wear no other Surtout than a Cloth Gown or Cloak, lined or faced with Cloth, Cotton or Bays, with a fixed round Collar, without Stitching, Guarding, Lace or Silk. 9. To wear no Pumps, Slippers, nor Shoes, but of English Leather, without being pinked, edged or stitched, nor Girdles nor Garters, other than of Crewel, Woollen, Thread or Leather, without being garnished. 10. To wear no Sword, Dagger, or other Weapon, but a Knife; nor a Ring, Jewel of Gold, nor Silver, nor Silk in any Part of the Apparel.

It was likewise further enacted, That every Apprentice offending against any of the above-mentioned items, was for the first offence to be punished at the discretion of his Master; for the second to be publicly whipped at the Hall of his Company; and for the third to serve six months longer than specified in his indentures. And every Master conniving at the crimes of his Apprentice committed against the tenor of the premises, should, for every such offence, forfeit to the poor of the parish wherein he dwelt six shillings and eightpence. It was also farther ordained, That no Apprentice should frequent, or go to any dancing, fencing, or musical schools; nor keep any chest, press, or other place for the keeping of apparel or goods, but in his Master’s House, under the penalties aforesaid. And every such Master permitting or allowing his Apprentice to offend in any of the said cases, to forfeit as in the case of forbidden apparel.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 267.)

Maitland, after praising this wise ordinance, laments that in his time, the middle of the eighteenth century, there could not be some such good law passed to restrain the “more destructive practices of our modern Apprentices,” viz. keeping mistresses, keeping horses, frequenting tavern clubs and playhouses, and “their great excesses in clothes, Linen, periwigs, gold and silver watches, etc.” He does not tell us where they got the money for these expensive luxuries, but in the Confession of Latroun Meriton (1650) the way is fully explained: it was, namely, by robbing their masters. In the year 1595 there were more troubles caused by the ’Prentices. The Queen ordered sharp measures to be taken:—

“‘And because such Assemblies and Routs were compounded of sundry Sorts of base People; some known Apprentices, such as were of base manual Occupations; some others, wandering idle Persons, of Condition, Rogues, and Vagabonds; and some colouring their wandering by the Name of Soldiers returning from the Wars, etc., therefore she had notified her Pleasure to her Council, to prescribe certain Orders to be published in and about the said City, which she would have streightly observed; and, for that Purpose, that she meant to have a Provost-Marshal, with sufficient Authority to apprehend all such as should not be readily reformed and corrected by the ordinary Officers of Justice, and them without Delay to execute upon the Gallows by Order of Martial Law. At our Manor of Greenwich, the 4th of July, 1595.’” (Maitland, vol. i. pp. 278–279.)

Sir Thomas Welford, accordingly, was appointed Provost-Marshal. He patrolled the streets with a number of horsemen armed with pistols: he arrested many of the rioters, who were tried at the Guildhall. Five of them were executed on Tower Hill, and the rioting ceased.

Of the Apprentices’ riot against the Spanish Ambassador in 1641 we have heard in another place (London in the Time of the Stuarts, p. 38). The Lord Mayor had a good deal of trouble in appeasing the Ambassador, who said that he “hardly knew how to call that a City or even a Society of rational creatures which was seemingly divested both of Humanity and Government.”

At the outbreak of Civil War the ’Prentices were on the side of the Parliament and enjoyed many opportunities of demonstrating their views and opinions, not only without reproach, but rather with the approbation of the Parliamentary party, the leaders of which encouraged the young fellows to enlist in their army, as, for example, by the following Proclamation:—

“‘Whereas in Times of common Danger and Necessity the Interests of private Persons ought to give way to publick, it is ordained and declared by the Lords and Commons in Parliament, That such Apprentices as have been, or shall be listed to serve as Soldiers, for the Defence of the Religion and Liberty of the Kingdom, his Majesty’s Royal Person, the Parliament, and the City of London, their Sureties, and such as stand engaged for them, shall be secured against their Masters, their Executors, and Administrators, from all Loss and Inconvenience by Forfeiture of Bonds, Covenants, Infranchisement, or other Ways: And that, after this publick Service ended, the Masters of such Apprentices shall be commanded and required to receive them again into their Service, without imposing upon them any Punishment, Loss, or Prejudice, for their Absence in the Defence of the Commonwealth.

‘And the Lords and Commons do further declare, That if it shall appear, that the Masters of such Apprentices have received any considerable Loss by the Absence of their Apprentices, they will take Care that reasonable Satisfaction be made unto them out of the publick Stock of the Kingdom, according to Justice and Indifferency.’” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 361.)

In 1647 two Petitions of the “Young men and apprentices” were drawn up and presented to the House of Lords by the two factions in the City, that in the interest of the King being signed by 10,000 hands, instigated, says Maitland, by their masters.

The action and attitude of the City on this occasion belong to its general history.

The custom and practice as concerns apprentices in the eighteenth century are laid down by Strype in his account of the duties and rules of the Chamberlain’s Court.

“Before him, the said Chamberlain, all Apprentices are enrolled, and made free; insomuch that none can set up Shop, or follow a Trade within the City or Liberties, if not a Freeman, and sworn before him; neither can any one turn over an Apprentice, but by his License. To him all Complaints are brought for Differences betwixt Apprentices and their Masters, who reconciles their Differences, and may punish, by Imprisonment, those that disobey his Summons, or any Apprentice that misdemeans himself to his Master or Mistress; but, upon the Apprentice’s acknowledging his Fault, and begging Pardon, with Promise never to offend any more, his Fault is forgiven.

Such Apprentices as have justly served their Term of seven Years, and not broken their Indentures by Marrying, etc., are made free.

Upon the Admission of every Person into the Freedom of this City, the Chamberlain causeth an Oath to be administered unto him, to be true to the King, the Government, and observe and keep the Customs of the City; which said Oath hath been mentioned before, Chap. XXIII.

If any Master shall refuse to make his Apprentice free, when the Term of his Indenture is expired, upon Complaint made to the Chamberlain, he will cause such Master to be summoned before him, and if he cannot shew good Cause to the Contrary, will make the Apprentice free. And if an Apprentice shall be unruly or disorderly in his Master’s House, or commit any notorious Fault, upon Complaint made thereof, the Chamberlain will send one of his Officers for such Apprentice, and send him to Bridewell, or otherwise punish him according to the Nature of the Offence.

If any Master shall misuse his Apprentice, by unreasonable Beating, not allowing him Necessaries, or by neglecting to instruct him, or the like, upon Complaint thereof made, the Chamberlain will send a Summons for the Master to appear before him; and upon due Hearing both Parties, will relieve the Apprentice, if his Allegations be proved to be just, or else leave the Apprentice to take his remedy against his Master in the Lord Mayor’s Court. And if the Master refuse to appear according to his Summons, the Lord Mayor and Recorder, upon Complaint thereof made unto them, will grant a Warrant to take him, and compel him to appear.

When an Apprentice, by the Consent of his Master, is to be turned over to another Master of the same trade, it must be done before the Chamberlain. And it is observed, that, if an Apprentice be turned over by the Company only of which the Master is free, it is no Obligation on the second Master to keep such an Apprentice; nor is the Apprentice compelled thereby to serve the second Master, but may depart at Pleasure, by suing out his Indentures against the first Master. Which may be done without the Privity or Knowledge of the second Master. And, therefore, it is absolutely necessary, that all Apprentices should be turned over before the Chamberlain. And thereby the first Master is discharged from him, and the second obliged to keep him; and the Apprentice will be obliged to serve the second Master, the full Term of his Indentures, although the same were made for nine Years, or more. It is the Interest of every Master and Apprentice, when any Difference happens between them, to refer the Matter to the Chamberlain; who will freely hear both Parties, and decide the Controversy, for 3s. Charge, viz. 1s. to the Officer for the Summons, and 2s. to the Clerk for the Order: Whereas, if they proceed at Law for Relief, it may probably cost both Parties six Pounds, or more, in Charges; and the Conclusion may be less satisfactory, than if decided by the Chamberlain.

The Fees due to the City for making Free, and the enrolling Apprentices.
An Apprentice made free, and not enrolled, the Master pays 00 13 2
The Apprentice pays 00 02 00
If turned over before the Chamberlain, the Master or Mistress must pay extraordinary 00 02 00
And, by Virtue of the late Act for Orphans, over and above these usual Fees,
An Apprentice, when bound, must pay 00 02 06
And when admitted a Freeman 00 05 00

If an Apprentice shall omit to take his Freedom, within convenient Time after the Expiration of his Indentures, the Chamberlain may impose upon the Apprentice such a Fine, in Reason, as he shall think fit, for this Neglect, without just Cause to the Contrary.

Every Freeman ought to take particular Care not to make an Apprentice free of London, by testifying for his true Service, unless such Apprentice shall have really served him. For, if he shall privately turn his Apprentice over to a Foreigner, and let his Apprentice serve such a Foreigner, and yet testify to the Chamberlain, that the Apprentice served a Freeman; in such Case, both the Master and the Apprentice may be disfranchised, and fined at the Discretion of the Recorder, and the Chamberlain, and may cause the Freeman’s Shop to be shut up.” (Strype, vol. ii. pp. 475–476.)

As regards the ancient costume of an Apprentice, I again quote Stow and Strype:—

“The ancient Habit of the Apprentices of London was a flat round Cap, Hair close cut, narrow falling Bands, coarse side Coats, close Hose, Cloth Stockings, and other such severe Apparel. When this Garb had been urged by some to the Disparagement of Apprentices, as a Token of Servitude, one, many a Year ago, undertaking the Defence of these Apprentices, wrote thus, that this imported the commendable Thrift of the Citizens, and was only the Mark of an Apprentice’s Vocation and Calling (and which anciently, no Question, was the ordinary Habit of a Citizen), which Point of ancient Discipline, he said, the grave common Lawyers do still retain in their Profession; for the Professors of that Learning, we see, do at this Present retain the party-coloured Coats of Serving-men at their Serjeants’ Feasts; and he wished, that the Remembrance of this ancient Livery might be preserved by the grave Citizens, in setting apart a particular Time or Day for the Feast of their Apprenticeship, when they should wear their former Apprentice’s Garb; making Profession in this Way, that they gloried in the Ensigns of their honest Apprenticeship.

In the Time of Queen Mary, the Beginning of Queen Elizabeth, as well as many Years before, all Apprentices wore blue Clokes in the Summer, and blue Gowns in the Winter. But it was not lawful for any Man, either Servant or other, to wear their Gowns lower than the Calves of their Legs, except they were above threescore Years of Age; but, the Length of Clokes being not limited, they made them down to their shoes. Their Breeches and Stockings were usually of white broad Cloth, viz. round Slops, and their Stockings sewed up close thereto, as if they were all but one Piece. They also wore flat Caps both then and many Years after, as well Apprentices as Journey-men and others, both at Home and Abroad; whom the Pages of the Court in Derision called Flat-Caps.

When Apprentices and Journeymen attended upon their Masters and Mistresses in the Night they went before them carrying a Lanthorn and Candle in their hands, and a great long Club on their Necks; and many well-grown sturdy Apprentices used to wear long Daggers in the Day-Time on their Backs or Sides.

Anciently it was the general Use and Custom of all Apprentices in London (Mercers only excepted, being commonly Merchants, and of better Rank, as it seems,) to carry Water Tankards, to serve their Masters’ Houses with Water, fetched either from the Thames, or the common Conduits of London.

It was a great matter, in former Times, to give 10£ to bind a youth Apprentice; but, in King James the First’s Time, they gave 20, 40, 60 and sometimes 100£ with an Apprentice; but now these prices are vastly enhanced, to 500, 600, or 800£.” (Strype, vol. ii.)

The question in 1628 arose, and was solemnly argued, whether an Apprentice, who is certainly bound to obedience, who must perform servile offices, who is corrected by his master, clothed by his master, and fed by his master, is or is not in a state of bondage or a bondsman. The question was resolved by Philipot, Somerset Herald, to the effect that he could not be considered a bondsman. The reason we may pass over. But Strype’s remarks are interesting:—

“So that Apprenticeship in London is no Dishonour, nor Degradation; but rather an Honour, and a Degree. He is very hardy that shall embase honest Industry with disgraceful Censures, and too unjust, who shall not cherish and encourage it with Praise and Worship, as the ancient Policy of England did and doth, in constituting Corporations, and adorning the Companies with Banners of Arms, and especial Members thereof with Notes of Nobility. And, as it is an Honour, so it is a Degree, or Order of good regular Subjects; out of whose, as it were, Noviceship or Colleges, Citizens are supplied from Time to Time. We call them Colleges, according to the old Roman Law Phrase, or Fellowships of Men. For so indeed they are, comprehended within several Corporations, or Bodies of free Persons, intended to be consociated together for commerce, according to Conscience and Justice, and named Companies. So that Apprentices, according to the Esteem of our Commonwealth, when first they come to be Apprentices, first begin to be Somebody, who before were young Men without any Vocation in the World. And so by other Ascents or steps come to be Freemen of London, or Citizens; thence to be of their Companies Liveries, Governors of Companies, as Wardens and Masters; and Governors in the City, as Common-Council-Men, Aldermen’s Deputies, Sheriffs, and Aldermen; and, lastly, the principal Governors, or Heads of the City, that is, Lord Mayors. And some also have been advanced, from being Citizens, to be Counsellors of State to the Prince.

It is further evident, that Apprenticeship doth not deprive of Gentry; for no Man loseth his Right to bear Arms, or to write Gentleman, unless he be attainted in Law for such a Cause; the Conviction whereof doth immediately procure Corruption in Blood; which in this Case no Man yet hath dreamt of. The Apprentice hath no more lost his Title and Right to Gentry, than he hath done to any Goods, Chattels, Lands, Royalties, or any Thing else, which, if he had never been any Apprentice, either had, might, or ought to have come unto him. The Rights of Blood are more inherent than the Rights of Fortune, according to the Law Rule, Jura Sanguinum nullo jure civili dirimi possunt, i.e. The Law of Bloods cannot be destroyed by any civil Right. That Gentry is a Right of Blood, may appear by this, that no Man can truly alienate the same, or vest another in it, tho’ legally he may, in Case of Adoption, which is but a human Invention, in Imitation of Nature; and, in the Truth of the Thing, no Alienation at all, but a Fiction, or an Acceptation in Law, as if it were such. Gentry is a Quality of Blood, as Virtue and Learning are of one Mind.

This is the Sum of what that learned Herald argued, in Confutation of that Opinion, that Apprenticeship extinguisheth Gentry. And he sent this his discourse to the Gentleman who desired his Judgment herein; whence, no Question, he received full Satisfaction. And the Herald took the more Pains in confuting this false Conceit, that it was a Thing unbeseeming a Gentleman to be an Apprentice to a Citizen or Burgess; because it had filled England with more Vices, and sacrificed more serviceable Bodies to odious Ends, and more Souls to sinful Lives, than perhaps any one other uncivil Opinion whatsoever. For they who held it better to rob by Land or Sea, than to beg or labour, did daily fee and feel, that out of Apprentices rose such as set upon them, standing out for lives as Malefactors; when they, a Shame and Sorrow to their Kindred, underwent a Fortune too unworthy.” (Strype, vol. ii. pp. 435–436.)

Apprentices in certain cases ought to be discharged:—

“One was discharged from his Master, because his Master held no shop, and withdrew himself from the City. Another, because his Master did not teach him. Another, because his Master was in Ludgate, and entrusted him not. Another, because not enrolled within a Year. Another, because his Master was distracted in his Mind. Another, because his Master was so poor that he could not exhibit to him. Another, because his Master diverted himself to other Occupations than his own Mystery. Another, because the Master was a Leper. Another, because the Wife, after the Death of her Husband, taught him not. And lastly, another, because his Master inordinately chastised him.” (Strype, vol. ii. p. 438.)

The decay of order among Apprentices may finish these notes on the class:—

“I come, in the next place, to treat of Attornies’ Clerks, Apprentices, inferior Tradesmen, Coachmen, Porters, Servants, and the lowest Class of Men in this town, which are far the most numerous: And, first, of the Lawyers’ Clerks and Apprentices, I find it a general Complaint, that they are under no Manner of Government; before their Times are half out, they set up for Gentlemen, they dress, they drink, they game, frequent the Playhouses, and intrigue with the Women; and it is a common Thing with Clerks to bully their Masters, and desert their service for whole Days and Nights, whenever they see fit. And indeed People consider little else at this Day, in the Choice of Clerks or Apprentices, but the sums they are to have with them; one, two, or three Hundred Pounds are given with a Clerk or Apprentice, who may be looked upon rather as a Boarder than a Servant. He takes little Care of his Master’s Business, and the Master as little to instruct him in the Mystery of his Profession.” (Strype, vol. ii. p. 559.)


The town was full of inns; more especially they were established without the gates and in the Borough. A great change had come over the Inns: formerly the inn was a place of lodging; some of them, as the Inns of Court, Barnard’s Inn, Gray’s Inn, Staple Inn, were colleges of residence; the business of providing food and drink belonged to the tavern and the cook’s shop. We have now come to the time when the inn itself provided food. Fortunately, there remain two very useful descriptions of the Inns of this time. One of them is by Harrison in Holinshed, and the other by Fynes Moryson. First, let us take that of Harrison:—

“Those townes that we call thorowfaires have great and sumptuous innes builded in them for the receiving of such travellers and strangers as passe to and fro. The manner of harbouring wherein, is not like to that as some other countries, in which the host or goodman of the house dooth chalenge a lordlie authoritie over his ghests, but clene otherwise, sith everie man may use his inne as his owne house in England, and have for his monie how great or little varietie of vittels, and what other service himselfe shall thinke expedient to call for. Our innes are also verie well furnished with naperie, bedding, and tapisserie, especiallie with naperie: for beside the linen used at the tables, which is commonlie washed dailie, is such and so much as belongeth unto the estate and calling of the ghest. Ech commer is sure to lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath beene lodged since they came from the landresse, or out of the water wherein they were last washed. If the traveller have an horsse, his bed doth cost him nothing, but if he go on foot he is sure to pay a penie for the same: but whether he be horseman or footman if his chamber be once appointed he may carie the kaie with him, as of his own house so long as he lodgeth there. If he loose oughts whilst he abideth in the inne, the host is bound by a generall custome to restore the damage, so that there is no greater security anie where for travellers than in the gretest ins of England. Their horses in like sort are walked, dressed, and looked unto by certeine hostelers or hired servants, appointed at the charges of the good man of the house, who in hope of extraordinary reward will deal verie diligently after outward appeerance in this their function and calling. Herein neverthelesse are manie of them blameworthie, in that they doo not onlie deceive the beast oftentimes of his allowance of sundrie meanes, except their owners look well to them; but also make such packs with slipper merchants which hunt after preie (for what place is sure from evill and wicked persons) that manie an honest man is spoiled of his goods as he travelleth to and fro, in which fear also the counsell of the tapsters or drawers of drinke, and chamberleins is not seldom behind or wanting. Certes I beleeve not that chapman or traveller in England is robbed by the waie without the knowledge of some of them, for when he commeth into the inne, and alighteth from his horse, the hostler forthwith is verie busie to take downe his budget or capcase in the yard from his sadle bow, which he peiseth slilie in his hand to feel the weight thereof: or he miss of this pitch when the ghest hath taken up his chamber, the chamberleine that looketh to the making of the beds, will be sure to remove it from the place where the owner hath set it as if it were to set it more conveniently somewhere else, whereby he getteth an inkling whether it be monie or other short wares and thereof giveth warning to such ghests as haunt the house and are of his confederacy to the utter undoing of manie an honest yeoman as he journieth by the waie. The tapster in like sort for his part dooth marke his behaviour and what plentie of money he draweth when he paieth the shot, to the like end; so that it shall be an hard matter to escape all their subtil practises. Some thinke it a gay matter to commit their budgets at their coming to the goodman of the house; but thereby they oft bewraie themselves. For albeit their monie be safe for the time that it is in his hands (for you shall not hear that a man is robbed in his inn) yet after their departure the host can make no warrantise of the same, sith his protection extendeth no further than the gate of his owne house; and there cannot be a surer token unto such as prie and watch for those booties, than to see any ghest deliver his capcase in such maner. In all our innes we have plenty of ale, beere, and sundrie kinds of wine, and such is the capacitie of some of them that they are able to lodge two hundred or three hundred persons, and their horses at ease, and thereto with a very short warning make such provision for their diet as to him that is unacquainted withall may seeme to be incredible. Howbeit of all in England there are no worse ins than in London, and yet manie are there far better than the best that I have heard of in anie forren countries, if all circumstances be duly considered. But to leave this and go in hand with my purpose. I will here set downe a table of the best thorowfaires and townes of greatest travell in England, in some of which there are twelve or sixteen such innes at the least, as I before did speak of. And it is a world to see how ech owner of them contendeth with other for goodnesse of interteinement of the ghests as about finesse and change of linen, furniture of bedding, beautie of rooms, service at the table, costlinesse of plate, strength of drinke, varietie of wines, or well using of horses. Finallie there is not much omitted among them as the gorgeousness of their verie signs at their doores wherein some doo consume thirtie or fortie pounds, a mere vanitie in mine opinion, but so vaine will they needs be and that not onelie to give some outward token of the inne keeper’s welth, but also to procure good ghests to the frequenting of their houses in hope there to be well used.” (Holinshed’s Chronicles.)

Concerning the customs in English Inns, Fynes Moryson thus writes:—

“For as soon as a passenger comes to an Inne, the servants run to him, and one takes his horse and walks him till he be cold, then rubs him and gives him meate, yet I must say that they are not much to be trusted in this last point, without the eye of the Master or his servant to oversee them. Another servant gives the passenger his private chamber, and kindles his fier, the third puls of his bootes and makes them cleane. Then the Host or Hostesse visits him, and if he will eate with the Hoste, or at a common table with others, his meale will coste him six pence, or in some places but four pence (yet this course is lesse honourable and not used by Gentlemen); but if he will eate in his chamber, he commands what meats he will according to his appetite, and as much as he thinkes fit for him and his company, yea, the kitchen is open to him, to command the meat to be dressed as he likes best; and when he sits at Table, the Host or Hostesse will accompany him, if they have many Guests, will at least visit him, taking it for courtesie to be bid sit downe; while he eates, if he have company especially, he shall be offerd musicke, which he may freely take or refuse, and if he be solitary the musicians will give him the good day with musicke in the morning. It is the custom and no way disgraceful to set up part of sypper for his breakfast. In the evening or in the morning after breakfast (for the common sort use not to dine, but ride from breakfast to supper time, yet comming early to the Inn for better resting of their horses) he shall have a reckoning in writing, and if it seems unreasonable the Host will satisfy him either for the due price, or by abating part, especially if the servant deceive him in any way, which one of experience will soon find. I will now only add that a Gentleman and his Man shall spend as much as if he were accompanied with another Gentleman and his Man, and if Gentlemen will in such sorte joyne together to eate at one table the expenses will be much diminished. Lastly, a Man cannot more freely command at home in his owne House than he may doe in his Inne, and at parting if he give some few pence to the Chamberlin and Ostler they wish him a happy journey.”

And further:—

“In all Innes, but especially in suspected places, let him take heed of his chamber fellowes, and always have his sword by his side or by his bedside; let him lay his purse under his pillow, but always folded with his garters or something hee first useth in the morning, lest he forget to put it on before he goe out of his chamber. And to the end he may leave nothing behind him in his Innes, let the visiting of his chamber and gathering his things together be the last thing he doth before hee put his foote into the stirrup.”

The list of Elizabethan taverns might be compiled at great length, but the following signs celebrated in verse will suffice:—

“Through the Royal Exchange as I walked
where gallants in sattin did shine:
At midst of the day they parted away
at several places to dine.
The gentry went to the King’s Head,
the nobles went unto the Crown:
The knights unto the Golden Fleece
and the plowman to the Clown.
The clergy will dine at the Miter,
the vintners at the Three Tuns:
The usurers to the Devil will go,
and the fryers unto the Nuns.
The ladies will dine at the Feathers,
the Globe no captain will scorn:
The huntsmen will go to the Greyhound below,
and some townsmen to the Horn.
The plummer will dine at the Fountain,
the cooks at the Holy Lamb:
The drunkards at noon to the Man in the Moon
and the cuckolds to the Ram.
The rovers will dine at the Lyon,
the watermen at the Old Swan:
The bawds will to the Negro go
and the whores to the Naked Man.
The keepers will to the White Hart,
the mariners unto the Ship:
The beggars they must take their way
to the Eg-shell and the Whip.
The farier will to the Horse,
the blacksmith unto the Lock,
The butchers to the Bull will go,
and the carmen to Bridewell-Dock.
The fishmongers unto the Dolphin,
the bakers to the Cheat-loaf:
The Turners unto the Tabel will go
where they may merrily quaff.
The taylors will dine at the Sheers,
the shoo-makers will to the Boot:
The Welshmen they will take their way
and dine at the sign of the Goat.
The hosiers will dine at the Leg,
and drapers at the sign of the Brush:
The fletchers to Robin Hood will go,
and the spendthrift to Beggar’s Bush.
The pewterers to Quart Pot,
the coopers will dine at the Hoop:
The coblers to the Last will go,
and the bargemen to the Scoop.
The carpenters will dine at the Axe,
the colliers will dine at the Sack:
Your fruiterer he to the Cherry-tree
good fellows no liquor will lack.
The goldsmiths to the Three Cups,
their money they count as dross:
Your puritan to the Pewter Can,
and your papist to the Cross.
The weavers will dine at the Shuttle,
the glovers will into the Glove:
The maidens all to the Maidenhead,
and true lovers unto the Dove.
The sadlers will dine at the Saddle,
the painters to the Green Dragon:
The Dutchman will go to the sign of the Vrow,
where each man may drink his flagon.
The chandlers will dine at the Scales,
the salters at the sign of the Bag:
The porters take pain at the Labour-in-vain,
and the horse-courser to the White Nag.
Thus every man to his humour,
from the north unto the south:
But he that hath no money in his purse,
may dine at the sign of the Mouth.
The swaggerers will dine at the Fencers:
but those that have lost their wits,
With Bedlam Tom let there be their home,
and the Drum the drummer best hits.
The cheater will dine at the Chequer,
the pick-pocket at the Blind Ale-house:
Till taken and tride, up Holborn they ride,
and make their end at the gallows.”

In a black-letter poem called “News from Bartholomew Fayre” occurs the following short list of taverns:—

“There hath been great sale and utterance of Wine,
Besides Beere, and Ale, and Ipocras fine,
In every country, region, and nation,
But chiefly in Billingsgate at the Salutation;
And at the Bore’s Head near London Stone;
The Swan at Dowgate, a tavern well knowne;
The Miter in Cheape, and then the Bull Head;
And many like places that make noses red;
The Bore’s Head in Old Fish Street; Three Cranes in the Vintry;
And now, of late, St. Martin’s in the Sentree;
The Windmill in Lothbury; the Ship at th’ Exchange;
King’s Head in New Fish Street, where roysterers do range;
The Mermaid in Cornhill; Red Lion in the Strand;
Three Tuns in Newgate Market; Old Fish Street at the Swan.”

Heywood (1608) writes:—

“The Gentry to the King’s Head,
The Nobles to the Crown,
The Knights unto the Golden Fleece,
And to the Plough the Clown.
The churchman to the Mitre
The shepherd to the Star,
The gardner hies him to the Rose,
To the Drum the man of war;
To the Feathers, ladies you; the Globe
The seaman doth not scorn;
The usurer to the Devil, and
The townsman to the Horn.
The huntsman to the White Hart,
To the ship the merchants go,
But you who do the Muses love,
The sign called River Po.
The banquerout to the World’s End,
The Fool to the Fortune Pie,
Unto the Mouth the oyster-wife,
The fiddler to the Pie.
The punk unto the Cockatrice,
The Drunkard to the Vine,
The Beggar to the Bush, then meet,
And with Duke Humphrey dine.”

It was the custom at Taverns to send presents of wine from one room to another with compliments.

The taverns were to the sixteenth century what the coffee-houses were to the eighteenth. Every man frequented his tavern: clubs were held in the taverns; men of the same trade met in the taverns for evening discourse; bargains and business affairs were conducted in taverns; there were good and bad taverns; those like the Boar’s Head, East Cheap, bore a bad character; that is to say, they were laden down by the character of Doll Tearsheet; others, again, where Doll and her friends were not admitted, were frequented by the most respectable merchants and divines. Music was going on in most of them all day long; and all day long the waiters, clad in blue and wearing white aprons, ran about with flasks of wine and cups, and tobacco and pipes, calling “Anon, Anon!” and stopping to chalk a score upon the wall.

It is strange that Stow mentions neither the Boar’s Head, East Cheap, which must have been a well-known tavern, or Shakespeare would not have chosen it for the haunt of the Prince and Falstaff; nor the Mermaid, the haunt of Ben Jonson and the poets. Presumably the worthy antiquary would not have felt at home in the company of the wits.

The Boar’s Head stood in that part of East Cheap now swept away. The statue of King William IV. marks the site. It was not an ancient tavern. There were no taverns formerly in East Cheap according to Stow; the first mention of it is in the year 1537. The courtyard was large enough for the performance of plays; at the back it looked out upon St. Michael’s churchyard. The churchyard and church of St. Michael were swept away to make the approach to new London Bridge. Between St. Michael’s Lane, now Miles’s Lane, and a small alley, stood four taverns in a row: the Chicken, the Boar’s Head, the Plough, and the Three Kings. These taverns were thus in the midst of markets: the Grass Market in front; the Fish Market on the east; the Meat Market on the west. The tavern was rebuilt after the fire, in 1668: the new sign then made for it may be seen in the Guildhall Museum; on each side of the doorway was carved in wood a vine branch, rising three feet from the ground, loaded with leaves and clusters, and on the top of each a figure of Falstaff eight inches high. Before its demolition the house had ceased to be a tavern. Here was held a club of which Boswell was a member, in which every one assumed a Shakespearian character. It was the custom to hold convivial meetings in this house. There Falstaff and Dame Quickly and Doll Tearsheet and the whole merry company became real. Goldsmith wrote his essay, “A Reverie,” in this tavern, and here Washington Irving gave full play to his fancy, and restored the things that never were to the place that never knew Prince Hal.

SIGN OF THE BOAR’S HEAD IN EAST CHEAP

The Mermaid Tavern stood between Friday Street and Bread Street, with an entrance from Cheapside as well. The tavern has been immortalised by a poet of the seventeenth and one of the nineteenth century.

Francis Beaumont, the former, writes to Ben Jonson:—

“What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid, heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtle flame,
As if that every one from whence they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown
Wit able enough to justify the town
For three days past; wit that might warrant be
For the whole city to talk foolishly
Till that were cancelled; and when that was gone,
We left an air behind us, which alone
Was able to make the two next companies
(Right witty, though but downright fools) more wise.”

And Keats, the latter, writes:—

“Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host’s Canary wine?”

Or, as Fuller says of Shakespeare:—

“Many were the wit-combates betwixt him and Ben Johnson, which two I behold like a Spanish great gallion, and an English man of War; Master Johnson (like the former) was built far higher in Learning; Solid, but Slow in his performances. Shake-spear, with the English man-of-War, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his Wit and Invention.”

Lists of old taverns are, as a rule, without interest; there are, however, a few of the London taverns of historic importance. Two have been mentioned. Thus, the Nag’s Head, at the corner of Friday Street, was the pretended scene of the consecration of Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury in 1559.

At the north-west of St. Paul’s Churchyard was an ancient tavern known as the Mitre. Here were given the concerts of the Society of Musicians; and their arms, representing the lyre of Apollo, with the crest of the Swan, being put up in the front of the house, caused the original sign to be jocularly transformed into that of the Goose and Gridiron. The Swan with Three Necks, meant originally the Swan with three “nicks” or marks to denote ownership. The Belle Savage was originally the Bell, but its landlord being a man named Savage, the house was emblazoned with a bell and a savage man beside it. The Elephant and Castle became the Pig and Tinder Box; the “Caton Fidele”—the Governor of Calais—became the Cat and Fiddle.

Fleet Street had many well-known taverns: like those in the City they were mostly approached by narrow alleys leading out of the street, as the Rainbow, Dick’s, and the Mitre. Dick’s stands on the site of the printing office of Richard Tottle, law stationer in the reign of Henry VIII. The Cock, later moved across the road, was one of the most famous of the Fleet Street taverns.

The “Devil” Tavern, however, was more famous even than the Mermaid. Ben Jonson drew the company from the latter tavern to the Devil; he lived at Temple Bar in order to be near the tavern. Here he founded the Apollo Club and wrote his famous rules in Latin, which were translated into English by one of his “sons,” Brome. Near the door was placed a gilt bust of Apollo with a “Welcome” in flowing lines:—

“Welcome all who lead or follow
To the oracle of Apollo:
Here he speaks out of his pottle,
Or the tripos, his tower bottle;
All his answers are divine,
Truth itself doth flow in wine.
Hang up all the poor hop-drinkers,
Cries old Sim, the king of skinkers;
He the life of life abuses
That sits watering with the Muses.
Those dull girls no good can mean us;
Wine—it is the milk of Venus,
And the poet’s horse accounted:
Ply it, and you all are mounted.
’Tis the true Phoebian liquor,
Cheers the brains, makes wit the quicker;
Pays all debts, cures all diseases,
And at once three senses pleases.
Welcome all who lead or follow
To the oracle of Apollo!”

The merchants conducted their business in the Royal Exchange, but the tavern was the place where the lesser traders, and the shopkeepers, and the people who came up from the country met, to arrange bargains and business of all kinds over a flask of Canary.


The latter half of the sixteenth century presents a remarkable development of the Drama and of the Theatres in London. This development was like the rising tide: it advanced with a force that was irresistible. The Mayor and Aldermen did their best to drive out plays and players from their boundaries; they went, but they established themselves beyond the limits of the City jurisdiction. Preachers denounced the theatre; moralists wrote pamphlets against it; yet it flourished more and more. John Stockwood, preaching at Paul’s Cross, says:—

“Have we not houses of purpose, built with great charges for the maintenance of them, and that without the liberties, as who shall say, ‘There, let them say what they will, we will play.’ I know not how I might, with the godly-learned especially, more discommend the gorgeous playing place erected in the Fields, than term it, as they please to have it called, a Theatre.” In the same sermon he asks: “Wyll not a fylthye playe wyth the blast of a trumpette sooner call thyther a thousande than an houres tolling of a bell bring to the sermon a hundred? Nay, even heere in the Citie, without it be at this place and some other certaine ordinarie audience, where shall you find a reasonable company? Whereas if you resorte to the Theatre, the Curtayne, and other places of players in the Citie, you shall on the Lord’s Day have these places, with many other that I cannot reckon, so full as possible they can throng.”

THE BEAR GARDEN AND THE GLOBE THEATRE
From Visscher’s Panorama of London.

The Londoners might change their religion, but they were not going to change their sports. They were Protestant instead of Catholic; but they kept up their bear-baiting, their bull-baiting, their archery, their wrestlings, their fencing, their quarter-staff play, their running at the quintain, their feats of tumbling, their Morris dances and mummings, their plays and interludes. But the Reformation killed the Miracle Play. The play of modern manners, or the tragedy, or the farce, took the place of the religious play. And instead of acting on a stage in a churchyard, the players now began to act in the broad and ample courtyard of the inn, whose galleries afforded room for people to look on. The authorities looked on the play from the beginning with eyes of disfavour: the actor was considered a masterless man; he had no trade; he was a strolling vagabond; he lived upon the largesse of those who looked on at his performance; he was a buffoon who would assume any character at will to make the people laugh and cry; he must be able to dance and posture like the tumblers on the road. Again, all the idle people in the City assembled to see the play; all the vicious people crowded to take advantage of the throng; in the theatre every day arose disorders and brawls; young men of sober parentage were seduced into becoming players. Witness the words of Prynne:—

“Our own experience can sufficiently inform us, that plays and playhouses are the frequent causes of many murders, duels, quarrels, debates; occasioned sometimes by reason of some difference about a box, a seat, a place, upon the stage; sometimes by intruding too boldly into some female’s company; sometimes by reason of some amorous, scurrilous, or disgraceful words, that are uttered of or to some female spectators; sometimes by reason of some speeches or passages of the play, particularly applied to some persons present or absent; sometimes by reason of some husband, or co-rival’s jealousy, or affront, whose wife, or mistress, being there in person, is perhaps solicited, abused, or jeared at in his presence; sometimes by reason of the apprentices who resort to playhouses, especially on Shrove Tuesday; sometimes by means of other accidents and occasions. Many have been the murders, more the quarrels, the duels, that have grown from our stage-plays, whose large encomiums of rash valour, duels, fortitude, generosity, impatientcy, homicides, tyranny, and revenge, do so exasperate men’s raging passions, and make them so impatient of the very smallest injury, that nothing can satisfy, can expiate, but the offender’s blood. Hence it is that some players, some play-haunters, now living, not satisfied with the murder of one, have embrued their barbarous un-christian hands in the blood of two, of three, if not of four several men. And so far are they from ruing the odiousness of these their bloody deeds, that they glory in the number of their murders as the very trophies of their valour.”

The Queen at the beginning of her reign issued a proclamation to prevent players performing without license, and from handling politics or religion. In 1572 the Mayor forbade the acting of plays in London on the ground of the Plague and the danger of infection. Harrison says:—

“Plaies are banished for a time out of London, lest the resort unto them should ingender a plague, or rather disperse it, being already begonne. Would to God these comon plaies were exiled altogether, as seminaries of impiety, and their theatres pulled downe, as no better then houses of bawdrie. It is an evident token of a wicked time when plaiers waxe so riche that they can build suche houses. As moche I wish also to our comon beare-baitings used oin the sabaothe daies.” (Holinshed’s Chronicles.)

In 1574 the first steps were taken towards the regulation of players and plays. The preamble to the ordinances is set forth by Maitland, with the ordinances themselves, as follows:—

“The citizens in Common-Council observing, that the antient and innocent Recreation of Stage-Plays or Interludes, which in former Days ingenious Tradesmen and Gentlemen’s Servants sometimes practised, to expose Vice, or to represent the noble Actions of their Ancestors, at certain Festival Times, or in private Houses at Weddings, and at other Splendid Entertainments, for their own Profit, was now in process of Time become an Occupation; and that many there were that followed it for a livelihood; and, which was worse, that it was become the Occasion of much Sin and Evil; great Multitudes of People, especially Youth, in Queen Elizabeth’s Reign, resorting to these Plays; and being commonly acted on Sundays and Festivals, the Churches were forsaken, and the Playhouses thronged, and great Disorders and Inconvenience were found to ensue to the City thereby, forasmuch as it occasioned Frays and evil Practices of Incontinency; Great Inns were used for this Purpose, which had secret Chambers and Places, as well as open Stages and Galleries; where Maids, especially Orphans, and good Citizen’s Children, under Age, were inveigled and allured to privy and unmeet Contracts; and where unchaste, uncomely and unshamefaced Speeches and Doings were published; where there was an unthrifty Waste of the Money of the Poor; sundry robberies, by picking and cutting Purses, uttering of popular and seditious Matter, many corruptions of Youth, and other Enormities; besides sundry Slaughters and Maimings of the Queen’s Subjects, by falling of Scaffolds, Frames, and Stages, and by Engines, Weapons, and Powder, used in the Plays; and believing that, in the time of God’s Visitation by the Plague, such Assemblies of the People in Throngs and Presses were very dangerous for spreading the Infection; they regulated these Plays, lest the People, upon God’s gracious withdrawing of the Sickness, should, with sudden forgetting of the Visitation, without Fear of God’s Wrath, and without some Respect of those good and politick Means (as the Words of the Act ran) that were ordained for the Preservation of the Commonwealth and People in Health and good Order, return to the undue Use of such Enormities. Therefore, for the lawful, honest, comely Use of Plays, Pastimes, and Recreations in good Sort permitted by the Authority of the Common Council, it was enacted:—

‘I. That no Play should be openly played within the Liberty of the City, wherein should be uttered any Words, Examples, or Doings of any Unchastity, Sedition, or such-like unfit and uncomely Matter, upon Pain of Imprisonment for the space of fourteen Days, and 5£ for every such offence. II. That no Innkeeper, Tavernkeeper, or other Person whatsoever, within the Liberties of the City, shall shew or play, or cause to be shewed or played, within his House or Yard, any Play, which shall not first be perused and allowed by the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen’s Order. III. No Person shall suffer any Plays to be played in his House or Yard, whereof he then shall have Rule, but only such Persons, and in such Places, as, upon good Consideration, shall be thereunto permitted and allowed by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen. IV. Nor shall take and use any such Benefit or Advantage of such Permission, until such person be bound to the Chamberlain of London, in certain Sums, for the Keeping of good Order, and avoiding of Discords and inconveniences. V. Neither shall use or exercise such Licence or Permission at any Time, in which the same shall be by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen restrained, or commanded to stay and cease, in any usual Time of Divine Service on the Sunday or Holiday, or receive any to that Purpose in Time of Service, to the same, upon Pain to forfeit for every Offence 5£. VI. And every Person to be licensed shall, during the Time of such continuance of License, pay to the Use of the Poor in Hospitals of the City, or of the Poor visited with Sickness, such Sums and Payments, as between the Mayor and Aldermen, and the Person to be licensed, shall be agreed upon; upon Pain that, on the Want of every such Payment, such License shall be utterly void. VII. All sums and Forfeitures to be incurred for any offence against this Act, and all Forfeitures of Bonds, shall be employed to the Relief of the Poor of the Hospitals, or of the Poor infected or diseased in the City: And the Chamberlain, in his own Name, shall have and recover the same, to the Purposes aforesaid, in the Court of the outer Chamber of Guildhall, London, called The Mayors Court.

‘Provided, That this Act shall not extend to Plays shewed in private Houses, Lodgings of a Nobleman, Citizen, or Gentleman, which shall have the same then played in his Presence for the Festivity of any Marriage, Assembly of Friends, or other like Cause, without publick or common collection of Money of the Auditors or Beholders.’” (Maitland, vol. i. pp. 262–263.)

Since the players could act no more in the City, there was nothing for them but to go outside. In 1574, James Burbage and some of the Earl of Leicester’s Company obtained the Queen’s license to act plays in any part of England. After receiving this license Burbage proceeded to build the first theatre, the house called simply “The Theatre.” This theatre was built outside the jurisdiction of the City, close to the remains of the Holywell Priory. After the Dissolution the church of this House was pulled down with most of the buildings. Houses were built upon its site, and the ruins themselves gradually disappeared. At the south-west of these ruins, on a site now marked by Dean’s Mews, Holywell Lane, Burbage built his theatre at a cost of £600, the money being advanced by his father-in-law. The theatre was in shape either circular or oval, probably the former. It was built for all kind of shows and entertainments. If a large space was wanted the whole of the area could be taken by the performers; raised galleries ran round the house; for the performance of a play, a stage was erected in the middle; from the nature of the case there could be no question of any scenery. The house was built of wood and is said to have been handsomely decorated; the central area was without a roof. There were troubles and quarrels about the lease of the house, which was taken down in the year 1598–99. The wood and timber of which the house was built were removed to Bankside, where they were used for the erection of the Globe Theatre.

The second theatre of London was that called The Curtain. It is a fact which illustrates the popularity of Finsbury Fields as a place of resort that there should have been a second theatre erected so close to the first. The Curtain Theatre was built on the south side of Holywell Lane, Shoreditch. In the house, too, feats of arms, sword-play, quarter-staff, and other games took place.

The third theatre (if we count The Globe as a continuation of The Theatre) was The Fortune, built near Golden Lane, Cripplegate.

The strongest charge against the theatres was the license allowed to the clowns or jesters, who between the pieces, or between the Acts, played “jigs” or “drolls” accompanied by songs and dances, and impromptu jokes which were topical, and, as may be imagined, broad and coarse. We may easily imagine that the civic authorities, the preachers, and the pamphleteers, who were always assailing the player and driving him from place to place, were not spared when the Clown had the stage all to himself, with hundreds of grinning faces in front of him, all of whom were egging him on with laughter and applause to say or do something more outrageous still, and loved nothing so much as to see before them acted to the life some sour Puritan who could see only “filthie and beastlie” stuff in the noblest play by Shakespeare, or in any sport.

BANKSIDE, SOUTHWARK, IN 1648, WITH A VIEW OF HOLLAND’S LEAGUER, ONE OF THE ANCIENT STEWS OR LICENSED BROTHELS SUPPRESSED DURING THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII.

Another favourite place of resort for the citizens, especially for the more riotous sort, was Southwark, with its raised river-wall or Bankside; its numerous inns and taverns; its low-lying fields and its various amusements. There were amphitheatres for bear- and bull-baiting; in the High Street itself there was a ring for the bull; in Paris Gardens, on the east side of Blackfriars Bridge, were kept bears and dogs for the favourite, almost the national, amusement; there was a kind of sanctuary in Southwark: here were allowed to reside the “Flemish Frows” still, in spite of Henry the Seventh’s suppression; here were held May Day games; here was held every year the pageant of St. George’s Day; and here, in the time of Henry VIII., were collected together idlers, vagabonds, and rogues in great numbers. In this place, the resort of all the young bloods and the wild element of London, the players settled down in force. The Rose, The Hope, The Globe, The Swan, all built about the same time, show the steady popularity of the Drama, in spite of the Puritanic attacks upon it, which seem to have done it no manner of harm.

At one end of Bankside stood the ruins of the Monastic House and the Clink Prison; then followed a single row of houses, at the back of which were the Bull-Baiting Ground and the Bear Garden; then the theatres already mentioned; also the Falcon Tavern, and Paris Gardens. All these places were built on a low-lying and marshy ground planted thickly with trees, intersected with ponds, ditches, and running streams—for instance, the Pudding Mill stream ran round two-thirds of Paris Gardens. For an account of the interior of a theatre and the presentation of a play I quote an imaginary account, in my own words:—

“The interior of the theatre was circular in shape. It contained three galleries, one above the other: the lowest called the ‘rooms,’ for seats in which we paid a shilling each, contained the better sorts. At each side of the stage there were boxes, one of which contained the music. The stage itself, a stout construction of timber, projected far into the pit, or, as Stow called it, the ‘yarde.’ At the back was another stage, supported on two columns, and giving the players a gallery about ten or twelve feet high, the purpose of which we were very soon to find out. On each side of the stage were seats for those who paid an additional sixpence. Here were a dozen or twenty gallants, either with pipes of tobacco, or playing cards or dice before the play began. One of them would get up quickly with a pretence of impatience, and push back his cloak so as to show the richness of his doublet below. The young men, whether at the theatre, or in Paul’s Walk, or in Chepe, seemed all intent upon showing the bravery of their attire: no girls of our day could be more vain of their dress or more critical of the dress worn by others. Some of them, however, I perceived among the groundlings—that is, the people on the ‘yarde’—gazing about the house upon the women in the galleries. Here there were many dressed very finely, like ladies of quality, in satin gowns, lawn aprons, taffeta petticoats, and gold threads in their hair. They seemed to rejoice in being thus observed and gazed upon. When a young man had found a girl to his taste, he went into the gallery, sat beside her, and treated her to pippins, nuts, or wine.

It was already one o’clock when we arrived. As we took our seats the music played its first sounding or flourish. There was a great hubbub in the place: hucksters went about with baskets, crying pippins, nuts, and ale; in the ‘rooms’ booksellers’ boys hawked about new books; everybody was talking together; everywhere the people were smoking tobacco, playing cards, throwing dice, cheapening books, cracking nuts, and calling for ale. The music played a second sounding. The hubbub continued unabated. Then it played the third and last. Suddenly the tumult ceased. The piece was about to begin.

The stage was decorated with blue hangings of silk between the columns, showing that the piece was to be—in part at least—a comedy. Across the railed gallery at the back was stretched a painted canvas representing a royal palace. When the scene was changed this canvas became the wall of a city, and the actors would walk on the top of the wall; or a street with houses; or a tavern with its red lattice and its red sign; or a tented field. When night was intended, the blue hangings were drawn up and exchanged for black.

The hawkers retired and were quiet; the house settled down to listen, and the Prologue began. Prologue appeared dressed in a long black velvet cloak: he assumed a diffident and most respectful manner; he bowed to the ground.

‘In Troy there lies the scene. From Isles of Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf’d,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships.’

In this way the mind of the audience was prepared for what was to follow. We needed no play-bill. The palace before us could be no other than Priam’s Palace. If there was a field with tents, it must be the battle-field and the camp of the Greeks; if there was a wall, it must be the wall of Troy. And though the scenery was rough, it was enough. One wants no more than the unmistakable suggestion; the poet and the actor find the rest. Therefore, though the intrusive gallants lay on the stage; though Troilus was dressed in the armour of Tudor time, and Pandarus wore just such a doublet as old Stow himself, we were actually at Troy. The boy who played Cressida was a lovely maiden. The narrow stage was large enough for the Council of Kings, the wooing of lovers, and the battle-field of heroes. Women unfaithful and perjured, lovers trustful, warriors fierce, the alarms of war, fighting and slaying, the sweet whispers of love were drowned by the blare of trumpets; the loss of lover forgotten in the loss of a great captain; and among the warriors and the kings and the lovers, the creeping creatures who live upon the weaknesses and the sins of their betters, played their parts upon these narrow boards before a silent and enraptured house. For three hours we were kept out of our senses. There was no need, I say, of better scenery: a quick shifting of the canvas showed a battle-field, and turned the stage into a vast plain covered with armies of Greeks and Romans. Soldiers innumerable, as thick as motes in the sun, crossed the stage fighting, shouting, challenging each other. While they fought, the trumpets blew and the drums beat, the wounded fell, and the fight continued over these prostrate bodies till they were carried off by their friends. The chiefs rushed to the front, crossed swords, and rushed off again. ‘Come both you cogging Greeks!’ said Troilus, while our cheeks flushed and our lips parted. If the stage had been four times as broad, if the number of men in action had been multiplied by ten, we could not have felt more vividly the rage, the joy, the madness of the battle. When the play was finished, the ale, the apples, and the nuts were passed round, and the noise began again. Then the clown came in and began to sing, and the music played—but oh, how poor it seemed after the great emotions of the play! The old man plucked me by the sleeve and we went out, and with us most of the better sort.” (London, pp. 237–239.)

In addition to the foregoing, or as confirming and supplementing that account, I quote the following from Drake’s Shakespeare and his Times:—

“The passion for the stage continued rapidly to increase, and before the year 1590, not less than four or five theatres were in existence. The patronage of dramatic representation made an equal progress at Court; for though Elizabeth never, it is believed, attended a public theatre, yet had she four companies of children who frequently performed for her amusement, denominated the Children of St. Paul’s, the Children of Westminster, the Children of the Chapel, and the Children of Windsor. The public actors, too, who were sometimes, in imitation of these appellations, called the Children of the Revels, were, towards the close of Her Majesty’s reign especially, in consequence of a greatly acquired superiority over their younger brethren, often called upon to act before her at the royal theatre in Whitehall. Exhibitions of this kind at Court were usual at Christmas, on Twelfth Night, at Candlemas, and at Shrove-tide, throughout the reigns of Elizabeth and James, and the plays of Shakspeare were occasionally the entertainment of the night; thus we find Love’s Labour Lost to have been performed before our maiden Queen during the Christmas-holydays, and King Lear to have been exhibited before King James on St. Stephen’s night. On these occasions, the representation was generally at night, that it might not interfere with the performances at the regular theatre, which took place early in the afternoon; and we learn from the Council-books that the royal remuneration, in the age of Elizabeth, for the exhibition of a single play at Whitehall, amounted to ten pounds, of which twenty nobles, or six pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence, formed the customary fee; and three pounds, six shillings, and eightpence the free gift or bounty. If, however, the performers were required to leave the capital for any of the royal palaces in its neighbourhood, the fee, in consequence of the public exhibition of the day being prevented, was augmented to twenty pounds.

The protection of the Drama by Elizabeth and her Ministers, though it did not exempt the public players, except in one instance, from the penalties of statutes against vagabonds, yet it induced during the whole of her long reign numerous instances of private patronage from the most opulent of her nobility and gentry, who, possessing the power of licensing their own domestics as comedians, and, consequently, of protecting them from the operation of the Act of Vagrancy, sheltered various companies of performers, under the denomination of their servants, or retainers—a privilege which was taken away, by Act of Parliament, on the accession of James, and, as Mr. Chalmers observes, ‘put an end for ever to the scenic system of prior times.’”

There were no fewer than fourteen companies of players, under private patronage, who contributed to exhilarate the people of London and the country. Of these, Drake furnishes a chronological enumeration. “Soon after the accession of Elizabeth appeared Lord Leicester’s company, the same which, in 1574, was finally incorporated by royal licence; in 1572 was formed Sir Robert Lane’s company; in the same year Lord Clinton’s; in 1575 companies were created by Lord Warwick, and the Lord Chamberlain, the name of Shakspeare being enrolled among the servants of the latter, who, in the first year of the subsequent reign, became entitled to the appellation of His Majesty’s servants; in 1576, the Earl of Sussex brought forward a theatrical body, and in 1577, Lord Howard another, neither of which, however, attained much eminence; in 1578 the Earl of Essex mustered a company of players, and in 1579, Lord Strange, and the Earl of Derby, followed his example; in 1591 the Lord Admiral produced his set of comedians; in 1592 the Earl of Hertford effected a similar arrangement; in 1593 Lord Pembroke protected an association of actors, and at the close of Her Majesty’s reign the Earl of Worcester had in pay also a company of theatrical performers.”

As regards the management of his property in the play the author had the choice of two methods. He might sell the copyright to the theatre. In this case, to which authors frequently had recourse in the age of Shakespeare, the dramatist sold outright the whole rights of the piece, so that the proprietors of the theatre secured its performance exclusively to their own company. If it was a popular piece, of course, they were not anxious to publish it. If, however, the author kept the piece in his own hands, he not only had the right of publication, but he had, likewise, a claim upon the theatre for a benefit. This, towards the termination of the sixteenth century, took place on the second day, and was soon afterwards, as early indeed as 1612, postponed to the third day.

The price of a drama, when disposed of to the public players, was twenty nobles, or six pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence; but private companies would sometimes give more than that sum.

The price of a play when published was sixpence, and the poet received about forty shillings of an honorarium for a dedication. It has been stated, however, that Shakespeare received but five pounds for his Hamlet.

  • 100. St. Mary Spittal.
  • 102. Houndsditch.
  • 103. Crutched Friars.
  • 104. Priory of Holy Trinity.
  • 105. Aldgate.
  • 106. St. Botolph, Aldgate.
  • 107. The Minories.
  • 108. The Postern Gate.
  • 109. Great Tower Hill.
  • 110. Place of Execution.
  • 111. Allhallow’s Church, Barking.
  • 112. The Custom House.
  • 113. Tower of London.
  • 114. The White Tower.
  • 115. Traitors’ Gate.
  • 116. Little Tower Hill.
  • 117. East Smithfield.
  • 118. Stepney.
  • 119. St. Catherine’s Church.
  • 120. St. Catherine’s Dock.
  • 121. St. Catherine’s Hospital.
  • 122. Isle of Dogs.
  • 123. Monastery of Bermondsey.
  • 124. Says Court, Deptford.
  • 125. Palace of Placentia.
  • 126. Greenwich.
From the Panorama of “London, Westminster, and Southwark, in 1543.” By Anthony Van den Wyngaerde. (Sutherland Collection, Bodleian Library, Oxford.) For continuation see pp. 218 and 235.

Hentzner, the German traveller, thus speaks of the theatres:—

“Without the City are some theatres, where English actors represent almost every day Comedies and Tragedies to very numerous audiences; these are concluded with variety of dances, accompanied by excellent music and the excessive applause of those that are present. Not far from one of these Theatres, which are all built of wood, lies the Royal Barge, close to the river Thames; it has two splendid cabins, beautifully ornamented with glass windows, painting and carving; it is kept upon dry ground and sheltered from the weather.”

The entertainment offered to the French Ambassador at the Court of Henry VIII. at Greenwich shows that acting and dressing formed part of a courtly entertainment. They began with tournaments and contests on foot and horse; they went on to an interlude in Latin, the altars being all richly dressed.

“This being ended,” says the author of the Life of Wolsey, “there came a great company of ladies and gentlemen, the chiefest beauties in the realm of England, being as richly attired as cost could make, or art devise, to set forth their gestures, proportions, or beauties, that they seemed to the beholder rather like celestial angels than terrestrial creatures, and in my judgment worthy of admiration, with whom the gentlemen of France danced and masked; every man choosing his lady as his fancy served; that done, and the maskers departed, came in another masque of ladies and gentlewomen, so richly attired as I cannot express; these ladies maskers tooke each of them one of the Frenchmen to dance; and here note, that these noblewomen spoke all of them good French, which delighted them much to hear the ladies speak to them in their own language. Thus triumphantly did they spend the whole night from five of the clock at the night into two or three of the clock in the morning; at which time the gallants drew all to their lodgings to take their rest.”

There was a kind of show called a Prolusion. This appears to have been a representation of some well-known event or legend. Thus in 1587 there was a Prolusion set forth by Hugh Offley, merchant-adventurer and leather-seller, one of the Sheriffs of the year 1588. It represented King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. He chose 300 good archers, personable men; and he dressed them in black satin doublets and black velvet hose; every man carried a bow of yew and a dozen waxed arrows. They marched in goodly array from Merchant Taylors to Mile End Green. Queen Elizabeth in her chariot passed them, and stopped in order to see the show. “In her whole life,” she said, “she had never seen a finer company of archers.” They all fell on their knees and prayed God to prosper and preserve Her Majesty. She thanked them and passed on her way, while the archers proceeded to attack the sham forts which had been set up, after which those who shot best took prizes, and Master Hugh Offley provided a banquet for all.

It is interesting to remember that the Theatre had to contend for the place of honour with the stately and courtly Masque. All that artist could do for decoration, or stage manager could devise for machinery, or that poet could imagine or invent for fable, was pressed into the service of the Masque. The dresses the players wore were most gorgeous; the speeches were fine; the dances and the songs were most beautiful. Real mountains contained real caves; Dryads ran out of the woods; Naiads lay beside running streams; all the Gods and Goddesses of Ovid took part in the action; there were thrones of gold and silver; there were star-spangled skies; sea gods and river gods appeared; Tritons blew their shells; mermaids swam about the sea-shell of mother-of-pearl in which sat Venus herself. And all this time the Theatre itself had no scenery and no stage management and no machinery. The Masque, however, did not assume its full development till the next century. It will be found more fully treated in the chapter on the Theatre and Art in London in the Time of the Stuarts. Even more popular than the theatre were the sports of bear-baiting, bull-baiting, wrestling, quarter-staff and single-stick. The favourite place for these sports was the Paris Garden beyond Bankside.

“Yet everye Sondaye
They will surelye spende
One penye or two
The bearwardes lyvyng to mende.
At Paryse Garden eche Sondaye
A man shall not fayle
To fynde two or three hundreds
For the bearwardes vaile.
One halpenye a piece
They use for to give
When some have no more
In their purse, I believe.”

You shall read contemporary accounts of bear-baiting and bull-baiting.

“Some,” says John Houghton in 1694, “keep the bull on purpose for the sport of baiting, cutting off the tips of his horns, and with pitch, tow, and such like matter, fasten upon them the great horns of oxen, with their tips cut off, and covered with leather, least they should hurt the dogs. Because these papers go into several other countries, I’ll say something of the manner of baiting the bull, which is, by having a collar about his neck, fastened to a thick rope about three, four, or five yards long, hung to a hook, so fastened to a stake that it will turn round; with this the bull circulates to watch his enemy, which is a mastiff dog (commonly used to the sport) with a short nose, that his teeth may take the better hold; this dog, if right, will creep upon his belly, that he may, if possible, get the bull by the nose, which the bull as carefully strives to defend, by laying it close to the ground, where his horns are also ready to do what in them lies to toss the dog; and this is the true sport.”

But if more dogs than one come at once, if they are cowardly and come under his legs, he will, if he can, stamp their guts out. I believe I have seen a dog tossed by a bull thirty, if not forty foot high; and when they are tossed either higher or lower, the men above strive to catch them on their shoulders, lest the fall might mischief the dogs.

They commonly lay sand about, that if they fall upon the ground it may be the easier. Notwithstanding this care, a great many dogs are killed, more have their limbs broke, and some hold so fast, that by the bull’s swinging them their teeth are often broke out.

To perfect the history of bull-baiting, I must tell you, that the famed dogs have crosses or roses of various coloured ribbon stuck with pitch on their foreheads, and such like the ladies are very ready to bestow on dogs or bull that do valiantly; and when ’tis stuck on the bull’s forehead, that dog is hollowed that fetches it off, though the true courage and art is to hold the bull by the nose ’till he roars, which a courageous bull scorns to do.

Often the men are tossed as well as the dogs; and men, bull, and dogs, seem exceedingly pleased, and as earnest at the sport as if it were for the lives or livelihoods. Many great wagers are laid on both sides, and great journeys will men and dogs go for such a diversion. I knew a gentleman that bought a bull in Hertfordshire on purpose to go a progress with him, at a great charge, into most of the great towns in the West of England.

This is a sport the English much delight in; and not only the baser sort, but the greatest lords and ladies.”

And here is Laneham on the sport of bear-baiting:—

“It waz a sport very pleazaunt of theez beasts; to see the bear with hiz pink eyez leering after hiz enemiez approch, the nimbleness and wayt of the dog to take hiz avauntage, and the fors and experiens of the bear agayn to avoyd the assaults; if he were bitten in one place, hoow he woold pynch in an oother too get free; that if he wear taken onez, then what shyft with byting, with clawyng, with roring, tossing and tumbling he woold woork too wynde hymself from them; and when he waz lose, to shake his earz twyse or thryse wyth the blud and slauer aboout his fiznamy, waz a matter of a goodly releef.”

We have already heard Hentzner on theatres, he has a word to say also on baiting:—

“There is still another place, built in the form of a Theatre, which serves for the baiting of bulls and bears; they are fastened behind, and then worried by those great English dogs and mastiffs, but not without great risk to the dogs from the teeth of the one and the horns of the other, and it sometimes happens they are killed on the spot; fresh ones are immediately supplied in the places of those that are wounded or tired. To this entertainment often follows that of whipping a blinded bear, which is performed by five or six men, standing in a circle with whips which they exercise upon him without any mercy; although he cannot escape from them because of his chain, he nevertheless defends himself vigorously, throwing down all who come within his reach and are not active enough to get out of it, tearing the whips out of their hands and breaking them. At these spectacles, and everywhere else, the English are constantly seen smoking the Nicotean weed, which in America is called Tobaca, and generally in this manner: they have pipes on purpose made of clay, into the farther end of which they put the herb, so dry that it may be rubbed into powder, and lighting it, they draw the smoke into their mouths, which they puff out again through their nostrils, along with plenty of phlegm and defluxion from the head. In these Theatres, fruits, such as apples, pears, and nuts, according to the season, are carried about to be sold, as well as wine and ale.”

But besides these cruel forms of so-called “sport,” there were more legitimate pleasures such as archery.

“During the holy days in summer,” Fitz Stephen says, “the young men exercise themselves in the sports of leaping, archery, etc.” The practice of archery was maintained in the City after the longbow had to give way before gun and cannon. As a pastime of the citizens only, no account of London would be complete without reference to archery. There were, as every one knows, two kinds of bow: the longbow and the crossbow. The former, for various reasons—its superiority in readiness of handling, lightness in carrying, range of flight and sureness of aim, caused it to be much more generally adopted in our armies than its rival. At Cressy, for instance, our men were armed with longbows, and the French with crossbows; when the rain fell the longbows could be easily covered up, the crossbow could not, so that the strings were wetted and the power of the weapon greatly injured. Edward the First, who had a great opinion of the longbow as the superior weapon, ordered, on the threat of war with France, every sheriff of a county to provide 500 white bows and as many bundles of arrows. Edward the Third issued repeated proclamations ordering the practice of archery. It would seem as if the word archery in the fourteenth century included the crossbow as well as the longbow, for Edward the Second, in 1314 (Riley, Memorials, p. 124), commanded the City of London to furnish 300 arbalesters “more powerful for defence,” and to provide them with “haketons, bacinets, collerettes, arbalests and quarels.” (The haketon was a jacket of quilted leather; the bacinet was a headpiece; the collerette, an iron collar for the protection of the throat; the arbalest is the crossbow; the quarel was the bolt.)

Richard the Second ordered that every man in his household should exercise himself as occasion should permit in archery. And in 1392 an Act was passed obliging all servants to practise archery on holydays. In 1417 Henry V. ascribed his victory at Agincourt chiefly to his archers, and orders the Sheriffs of the counties to pluck from every goose six wing-feathers for the improvement of the arrow. These feathers were the second, third, and fourth of each wing. Edward IV. ordered that Englishmen in Ireland and every Irishman living with Englishmen should be provided with a bow of his own height, which was to be made of yew, wych, hazel, ash, or alder. Butts were to be erected in every township, and the inhabitants were to practise on every feast day. The same king sent a thousand archers to the Duke of Burgundy, who was to pay them sixpence a day, about five shillings of our money. Nothing can prove more conclusively the estimation in which archers were held. The same king provided for his war both guns and bows. A great deal of yew was imported at this time; it came in the Venetian ships from Dalmatia and the countries on the eastern shores of the Adriatic.

In the nineteenth year of Henry VII. the King finally decided for the longbow against the crossbow, because “the longbow had been much used in this realm, whereby honour and victory had been gotten against outward enemies; the realm greatly defended; and much more the dread of all Christian Princes by reason of the same.” Henry VII. himself shot at the butts.

There were at least five statutes issued by Henry VIII. ordering the practice of archery, but forbidding the crossbow.

The London Archers continued to hold their yearly contests in the month of September, in spite of the fact that henceforth there would be no use for the longbow in warfare. They formed a very fine corps, had they been of any use; meantime, the City has always loved a show, and a very fine show the Archers provided. Their captain was called the Duke of Shoreditch; the captains of the different Companies were called the Marquesses of Clerkenwell, Islington, Hoxton, and the Earl of Pancras,[13] etc.; in the year 1583 they assembled at Merchant Taylors Hall to the number of 3000 all sumptuously apparelled, “nine hundred and forty-two having chains of gold about their necks.” They were escorted by whifflers and bowmen to the number of 4000, besides pages and footmen; and so marching through Broad Street, where the Duke of Shoreditch lived, they proceeded by Moorfields and Finsbury to Smithfield, where, after performing their evolutions, they shot at the target for glory.

The Finsbury Archers continued to exist and to hold their meetings till well into the eighteenth century. Mr. Daines Barrington, writing for the Society of Antiquaries in 1787, mentions that there were still living two old men who had obtained prizes in these contests as late as 1753, when they ceased. The same writer gives a map of the butts or archers’ marks in Finsbury Fields as they were standing in the year 1787. The distance between the marks varies from 120 feet to 300 feet. It may be assumed that 200 feet was a fairly average distance for an arrow. The proper weight for an arrow was considered to be one ounce only; it was to be winged by three feathers: two white being plucked from the gander, and one gray taken from the goose; this difference in colour showed the archer when the arrow was properly placed.

The Artillery Company or Finsbury Archers, predecessors of the present Artillery Company, enjoyed certain privileges as to dress, as to shooting at birds, and immunity from the charge of murder should any one be killed by these arrows, especially after they had cried “Fast!” as a warning.

It appears that bows and arrows were employed long after they left the field of battle for shooting rabbits and crows, partly because gunpowder was dear, but chiefly because the arrow makes no noise to frighten the game away. The London Archers continued, in spite of the fact that henceforth there would be no use of the longbow in warfare, to hold their yearly contests in the month of September.

The Honourable Artillery Company, before it received its letters patent, had been in the habit of practising archery in the fields of Islington, Hoxton, and Shoreditch. In these fields targets or butts were fixed to shoot at. Two of these butts or targets were still in existence in 1860: one at the end of Dorchester Street, Hoxton, on the east side of the New North Road near the Canal Bridge, and the other in the brickwork of the Canal Bridge above the towing-path. Two others had been destroyed about the year 1845: one in the Britannia Fields, and the other in the ground now called Wellington Square. That standing at the end of Dorchester Road was called “Whitehall.” A drawing of it is given in the L. and M. Arch. Society (vol. ii. p. 15).

The other sports, feasts, and festivals of the City remained in the sixteenth century much as they had been before the change of Faith with certain exceptions, such as the Boy Bishop, the Feast of All Fools in the Church, and the Miracle Play with its profanity and coarseness. These vanished. There remained the Feasts of Christmas and Easter; the celebration of May Day; the Vigils of St. John, St. Peter, and St. Paul; and the Midsummer Watch. There were also Shrove Tuesday, Hocking Day, Whitsuntide, and Martinmas, with some others. The ceremonies of a Christmas banquet are preserved in Gerard Leigh’s Accidence of Armory, and have been reproduced by Nichols. The feast was that of the year 1561. The place was the Temple. The person called Palaphilos was the Constable and Marshall, Dudley, Earl of Leicester.

“The next day I thought for my pastime to walk to this Temple, and entring in at the gates, I found the building nothing costly; but many comely Gentlemen of face and person, and thereto very courteous, saw I pass to and fro, so as it seemed a Prince’s port to be at hand; and passing forward, entred into a Church of antient building, wherein were many monuments of noble personages armd in knightly habit, with their cotes depainted in ancient shields, whereat I took pleasure to behold. Thus gazing as one bereft with the rare sight, there came unto me an Hereaught, by name Palaphilos, a King of Armes, who curteously saluted me, saying, ‘For that I was a stranger, and seeming by my demeanour a lover of honour, I was his guest of right’: whose curtesy (as reason was) I obeyed; answering ‘I was at his commandment.’ ‘Then,’ said he, ‘ye shall go to mine own lodging here within the Palace, where we will have such cheer as the time and country will yield us’: where, I assure you, I was so entertained, as no where I met with better cheer or company, etc.

Thus talking we entred the Prince his Hall, where anon we heard the noise of drum and fyfe. ‘What meaneth this drum?’ said I. Quoth he, ‘This is to warn Gentlemen of the Houshold to repair to the dresser; wherefore come on with me, and ye shall stand where ye may best see the Hall served; and so from thence brought me into a long gallery, that stretched itself along the Hall neer the Prince’s table, where I saw the Prince set: a man of tall personage, a manly countenance, somewhat brown of visage, strongly featured, and thereto comely proportioned in all lineaments of body. At the nether end of the same table were placed the Embassadors of sundry Princes. Before him stood the carver, sewer, and cup-bearer, with great number of gentlemen wayters attending his person; the ushers making place to strangers of sundry regions that came to behold the honour of this mighty Captain. After the placing of these honourable guests, the Lord Steward, Treasurer, and Keeper of Pallas Seal, with divers honourable personages of that Nobility, were placed at a side-table neer adjoining the Prince on the right hand, and at another table on the left side were placed the Treasurer of the Household, Secretary, the Prince his Serjeant at the Law, four Masters of the Revels, the King of Arms, the Dean of the Chappel, and divers Gentlemen Pensioners to furnish the same. At another table on the other side were set the Master of the Game, and his Chief Ranger, Masters of Houshold, Clerks of the Green Cloth and Check, with divers other strangers to furnish the same. On the other side against them, began the table, the Lieutenant of the Tower, accompanied with divers Captains of foot-bands and shot. At the nether end of the Hall began the table, the High Butler, the Panter, Clerks of the Kitchin, Master Cook of the Privy Kitchin, furnished throughout with the souldiers and guard of the Prince; all which, with number of inferior officers placed and served in the Hall, besides the great resort of strangers I spare to write.

The Prince so served with tender meats, sweet fruits, and dainty delicates confectioned with curious cookery, as it seemed wonder a world to observe the provision; and at every course the trumpetters blew the couragious blast of deadly war, with noise of drum and fyfe, with the sweet harmony of violins, sackbutts, recorders, and cornetts, with other instruments of music, as it seemed Apollo’s harp had turned their stroke. Thus the Hall was served after the most ancient order of the Island; in commendation whereof I say, I have also seen the service of great Princes, in solemn seasons and times of triumph, yet the order hereof was not inferior to any. But to proceed, this Hereaught Palaphilos, even before the second course came in, standing at the high table said in this manner: ‘The mighty Palaphilos, Prince of Sophie, High Constable Marshall of the Knights Templars, Patron of the Honourable Order of Pegasus’; and therewith cryeth ‘A Largess.’ The Prince, praysing the Hereaught, bountifully rewarded him with a chain to the value of an hundred talents.

I assure you, I languish for want of cunning, ripely to utter that I saw so orderly handled appertaining to service; wherefore I cease, and return to my purpose.

The supper ended, and tables taken up, the High Constable rose, and a while stood under the place of honour, where his achievement was beautifully embroidered and devised of sundry matters, with the Ambassadors of foreign nations, as he thought good, till Palaphilos, King of Armes, came in, his Hereaught Marshal, and Pursivant before him; and after followed his messenger and Caligate Knight; who putting off his coronal, made his humble obeysance to the Prince, by whom he was commanded to draw neer, and understand his pleasure; saying to him, in few words, to this effect: ‘Palaphilos, seeing it hath pleased the high Pallas to think me to demerit the office of this place; and thereto this night past vouchsafed to descend from heavens to increase my further honour, by creating me Knight of her Order of Pegasus; as also commanded me to join in the same Society such valiant Gentlemen throughout her province whose living honour hath best deserved the same, the choice whereof most aptly belongeth to your skill, being the watchman of their doings and register of their deserts; I will ye choose as well throughout our whole armyes, as elsewhere, of such special gentlemen, as the gods hath appointed, the number of twenty-four, and the names of them present us: commanding also those chosen persons to appear in our presence in knightly habit, that with conveniency we may proceed in our purpose. This done Palaphilos obeying his Prince’s commandement, with twenty-four knights, all apparelled in long white vestures, with each man a scarf of Pallas colours, and them presented, with their names, to the Prince; who allowed well his choice, and commanded him to do his office. Who, after his duty to the Prince, bowed towards these worthy personages, standing every man to his antienty, as he had born armes in the field, and began to shew his Prince’s pleasure; with the honour of the Order.”

And here is a note from Stow on Christmas Customs:—

“Against the feast of Christmas, every man’s house, as also their parish churches, were decked with holm, ivie, bayes, and whatsoever the season of the yeere aforded to be greene; the conduits and standards in the streets were likewise garnished. Amongst the which, I read, that in the yeere 1444, by tempest of thunder and lightning, on the first of February at night, Paul’s steeple was fired, but with great labour quenched, and toward the morning of Candlemas day, at the Leaden Hall in Cornhill, a standard of tree, beeing set up in the midst of the pavement fast in the ground, nayled full of holme and ivy, for disport of Christmas to the people, was torne up and cast downe by the malignant spirit (as was thought), and the stones of the pavement all about were cast in the streetes, and into divers houses, so that the people were wore agast at the great tempests.”

Let us pass on to the great Festival of May Day.

“Forth goeth all the court both most and lest,
To Fetch the floures fresh, and braunch and blome—
And namely hauthorn brought both page and grome
And than rejoysen in their great delite;
Eke ech at other throw the floures bright,
The primerose, the violete, and the gold.
With freshe garlants party blew and white.”

Philip Stubbes says:—“Against Maie, Whitsondaie, or some other tyme of the yeare, every parishe, towne, and village assemble themselves together, bothe men, women, and children; and either goyng all together, or deviding themselves into companies, they goe some to the woodes and groves, some to the hilles and mountaines, some to one place, some to another, where they spend all the night in pleasant pastymes, and in the mornyng they returne bringing with them, birch, bouwes, and braunches of trees to deck their assemblies withal. But their chiefest jewel they bring from thence is their Maie poole, which they bring home with greate veneration, as thus:—They have twentie or fortie yoke of oxen, every oxe havyng a swete nosegaie of flowers tyed on the tippe of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home the Maie poole (this stinckyng idoll rather), which is covered all over with flowers and hearbes, bounde rounde aboute with stringes from the top to the bottome, and sometyme painted with variable colours, with two or three hundred men, women, and children followyng it with greate devotion. And thus being reared up, with handkerchiefes and flagges streamyng on the toppe, they strawe the grounde aboute, binde greene boughs about it, sett up sommer halles, bowers, and arbours hard by it; and then fall they to banquet and feast, to leape and daunce aboute it, as the heathen people did at the dedication of their idolles.... I have heard it credibly reported,” he sarcastically adds, “by men of great gravity, credite, and reputation, that of fourtie, three score, or a hundred maides goyng to the wood over night, there have scarcely the third parte of them returned home againe as they went.” (The Anatomie of Abuses, 1836 edition, p. 171.)

Herrick says:—

“Get up ... and see
The dew bespangling herbe and tree;
Each flower has wept, and bow’d toward the east,
Above an hour since; ... it is sin,
Nay profanation, to keep in;
When as a thousand virgins on this day,
Spring sooner than the larks to fetch in May!
Come, my Corinna, come; and comming marke
How each field turns a street, each street a parke
Made green and trimmed with trees; see how
Devotion gives each house a bough,
Or branch; each porch, each doore ere this,
An arke or tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove,
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street,
And open fields, and we not see’t?
Come, we’ll abroad; and let’s obey
The Proclamation made for May,
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying.
There’s not a budding boy, or girle, this day
But is got up, and gone to bring in May;
A deale of youth, ere this, is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame,
Before that we have left to dreame;
And some have wept, and woo’d, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth;
Many a green gown has been given;
Many a kisse, both odde and even;
Many a glance too has been sent
From out the eye, Love’s firmament;
Many a jest told of the keyes betraying
This night, and locks pickt, ye w’are not a Maying!”

Of the festive appearance of the streets in summer, and the hospitality of the citizens, and the setting of the Midsummer Watch, Stow speaks at length (Thoms’s edition, p. 39):—

“In the months of June and July, on the vigils of festival days, and on the same festival days in the evenings after the sun setting, there were usually made bonfires in the streets, every man bestowing wood or labour towards them; the wealthier sort also, before their doors, near to the said bonfires, would set out tables on the vigils, furnished with sweet bread and good drink, and on the festival days with meats and drinks plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours and passengers also to sit and be merry with them in great familiarity, praising God for His benefits bestowed on them. These were called bonfires as well of good amity amongst neighbours that being before at controversy were there, by the labour of others, reconciled, and made of bitter enemies loving friends; and also for the virtue that a great fire hath to purge the infection of the air. On the vigil of St. John the Baptist, and on St. Peter and Paul the apostles, every man’s door being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, St. John’s wort, orpin, white lilies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands of beautiful flowers, had also lamps of glass, with oil burning in them all the night; some hung out branches of iron curiously wrought, containing hundreds of lamps alight at once, which made a goodly show, namely in New Fish Street, Thames Street, etc.”

Drawn by Grignon, photographed by Dr Diamond
J. Hale Keur Sr.
A FÊTE AT HORSELYDOWN IN 159O
From a picture by G. Hoffnagle at Hatfield House.

At Whitsuntide 1900 I was at Treves. It is the custom on Whit Sunday to hold a great procession in which, apparently, the whole population takes part through the principal streets to the Cathedral. The girls are dressed in white with white flowers in their hair; the younger girls carry baskets filled with white flowers; men, women, and children are all chanting as they go; groups of priests, boys in scarlet, beadles and other ecclesiastical selections, adorn the procession. If that were all I should not notice it in this place. But in addition every street through which the procession passed was decorated with branches. And here for the first time I understood the lines already quoted, how

“Each field turns a street, each street a parke
Made green and trimmed with trees; see how
Devotion gives each house a bough,
Or branch; each porch, each doore, ere this,
An arke or tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove.”

For the decking of the house did not consist of a branch or a bunch over a porch or a window, but the whole ground-floor of every house was covered with great boughs closely placed side by side so as to look like a lane of trees. Herrick did not exaggerate.

Stow goes on to speak of the Marching Watch:—

“Besides the standing Watches all in bright Harness, in every Ward and Street in this city and Suburbs, there was also a Marching Watch, that passed through the principal Streets thereof, to wit, from the little conduit by Paul’s Gate to West Cheap, by the Stocks through Cornhill, by Leaden Hall to Aldgate, then back down Fenchurch Street, by Grasse church, about Grasse church conduit, and up Grasse church street into Cornhill, and through it into West Cheap again, and so broke up. The whole way ordered for this marching watch extendeth to three thousand two hundred Taylor’s Yards of Assize; for the furniture whereof with Lights, there were appointed seven hundred cressets, five hundred of them being found by the Companies, the other two hundred by the Chamber of London. Besides the which Lights every Constable in London, in number more than two hundred and forty, had his Cresset; the charge of every Cresset was in Light two shillings and fourpence, and every cresset had two men, one to bear or hold it, another to bear a Bag with Light, and to serve it, so that the Poor Men pertaining to the Cressets, taking Wages, besides that every one had a strawen Hat, with a Badge painted, and his breakfast, amounted in number to almost two thousand. The marching Watch contained in number about two thousand men, part of them being old Soldiers, of skill to be Captains, Lieutenants, Serjeants, Corporals, etc., Wiflers, Drummers, and Fifes, Standard and Ensign Bearers, Demilances on great Horses, Gunners with hand guns, or half Hakes, Archers in coats of white Fustian, signed on the breast and back with the Arms of the City, their Bows bent in their Hands, with Sheafs of Arrows by their Sides; Pikemen in bright Corslets, Burganets, etc., Halbards, the like the Billmen in Almain Rivets, and Aprons of Mail in great Number. There were also divers Pageants, Morris Dancers, Constables, the one-half, which was one hundred and twenty on St. John’s Eve, the other half on St. Peter’s Eve, in bright harness, some over Gilt, and every one a jornet of Scarlet thereupon, and a Chain of Gold, his henchman following him, his Minstrels before him, and his Cresset Light passing by him, the Waits of the City, the Mayor’s officers for his Guard before him, all in a livery of woosted, or Sea Jackets party-coloured, the Mayor himself well mounted on Horseback, the Swordbearer before him in fair Armour well mounted also, the Mayor’s Footmen, and the like Torch Bearers about him, Henchmen twain upon great stirring Horses, following him. The Sheriffs’ Watches came one after the other in like Order, but not so large in Number as the Mayor’s; for where the Mayor had, besides his Giant, three Pageants, each of the Sheriffs had, besides their Giants, but two Pageants; each their Morris Dance, and one Henchman, their Officers in jackets of woosted or Sea, party-coloured, differing from the Mayor’s and each from other, but having harnessed Men a great many.

This Midsummer Watch was thus accustomed yearly, time out of Mind, until the year 1539, the 31st of Henry VIII., in which year, on the 8th of May, a great Muster was made by the Citizens at the Mile’s End, all in bright Harness, with Coats of White Silk, or Cloth and Chains of Gold, in three great Battels, to the number of fifteen thousand, which passed through London to Westminster, and so through the Sanctuary, and round about the Park of St. James, and returned home through Oldborne. King Henry, then considering the great Charges of the Citizens for the Furniture of this unusual Muster, forbad the Marching Watch provided for at Midsummer for that Year; which being once laid down, was not raised again till the year 1548, the 2nd of Edward VI., Sir John Gresham then being Mayor, who caused the Marching Watch, both on the eve of St. John Baptist and of St. Peter the Apostle, to be revived and set forth in as comely order as it hath been accustomed, which Watch was also beautified by the number of more than three hundred Demilances and light Horsemen, prepared by the citizens to be sent into Scotland for the rescue of the town of Haddington, and others kept by the Englishmen.” (Stow, vol. i.)

As for dancing, never was there a time when it was more popular. Everybody danced: the Queen at Whitehall danced the brawl; the kitchen-maid in the street danced the ney. They danced the solemn pavane, the Cassamezzo galliard, the canary dance, the Coranto, the Cavolta, the jig, the galliard, the fancy, and the Ney, and perhaps many more. They played cards: they played at primiero, trumpe, gleek, gresso, new cut, knave out of doors, ruff, noddy, most and pace; they got through the long winter evenings mainly with the help of cards. Bowling was a summer amusement; tournaments belonged to the Court; hunting was an amusement for the richer sort; the people also fought cocks, wrestled, practised archery, and played quarter-staff. The old Catholic feasts and sports—such as the Feast of Fools, the Boy Bishop, the Mysteries in the Churches, were abolished; but in their own houses they had mumming and mummers; for the ladies there was embroidery; there was also fine work of all kinds. And there was a great demand for monsters: a pig with eight legs; strange fishes caught in the river; a mermaid quite fresh, unfortunately dead, caught off the Yarmouth Roads; a calf with two backs; a lobster with six claws; these things were always on exhibition, for the most part, in Fleet Street. Their Morris dances, their Maypoles, Whitsun Ales, their fairs and wakes, and, in fact, every occasion for meeting together, singing, feasting, and dancing, this Protestant city kept up.

THE DANCING PICTURE
By Holbein and Janet, in the possession of Major-General F. E. Sotheby.

Among the amusements of the people must not be forgotten the common custom of telling stories. The long evenings when the family gathered round the fire, the only light in the room, were tedious: they could hardly go to bed much before eight, though they rose long before daybreak. Story-telling was an amusement which had long ago pleased the Saxons and the Danes, who recounted the great deeds of their ancestors to wile away the winter evening. Perhaps many of the stories which found their way into books during the sixteenth century served this purpose, while the merry jests of Skogan, and Peele, and the rest, certainly formed part of the story-teller’s rÉpertoire.

Another amusement was that of reading. We have already seen what an immense field was opened up for those who loved books, by the shoals which during Elizabeth’s reign were issued from the press.

The first Lottery was set on foot in the year 1559. The drawing took place at the west door of St. Paul’s, and continued daily from the 11th of January to the 6th of May following. The Lottery did not gain its full power until the eighteenth century. It is sufficient here to record the first appearance of this baleful institution, fruitful mother of crime.


Harrison says that there are “four kinds of poor: the poor by impotence, as the fatherless child, the blind man, and the incurably sick man; the poor by casualty, as the wounded soldier; the thriftless poor, as the rioter that hath consumed all; the vagabond that will abide nowhere; and, finally, the rogues and strumpet which are not possible to be divided in sunder.”

As regards the last sort. Harrison’s description tells everything that is wanted.

“Such as are idle beggars through their owne default are of two sorts, and continue their estates either by casuall or meere voluntarie meanes: those that are such by casuall means, are in the beginning justlie to be referred either to the first or second sort of poore afore mentioned; but degenerating into the thriftlesse sort, they doo what they can to continue their miserie, and with such impediments as they have to straie and wander about, as creatures abhorring all labour and every honest exercise. Certes I call these casuall meanes, not in respect of the originall of their povertie, but of the continuance of the same, from whence they will not be delivered, such is their owne ungratious lewdnesse and froward disposition. The voluntarie meanes proceed from outward causes, as by making of corosives, and applieng the same to the more fleshie parts of their bodies; and also laieng of ratsbane, sperewort, crowfoot, and such like unto their whole members, thereby to raise pitifull and odious sores and moove the harts of the goers by such places where they lie, to yerne at their miserie and bestow large almesse upon them. How artificiallie they beg, what forcible speech, and how they select and choose out words of vehemencie, whereby they doo in maner conjure or adjure the goer by to pitie their cases, I passe over to remember, as judging the name of God and Christ to be more conversant in the mouths of none; and yet the presence of the heavenlie majestie further off from no men than from this ungracious companie. Which maketh me to think that punishment is farre meeter for them than liberalitie or almesse, and sith Christ willeth us cheeflie to have a regard to Himselfe and His poore members.

Unto this nest is another sort to be referred, more sturdie than the rest, which having sound and perfect limbs, doo yet, notwithstanding, sometime counterfeit the possession of all sorts of diseases. Divers times in their apparell also they will be like serving-men or laborers; oftentimes they can plaie the mariners, and seeke for ships which they never lost. But in fine, they are thieves and caterpillars in the common-wealth, and by the word of God not permitted to eat, sith they doo but lick the sweat from the true labourers’ browes, and beereve the godly poore of that whiche is due unto them, to mainteine their excesse, consuming the charitie of well-disposed people bestowed upon them, after a most wicked and detestable manner.

It is not yet full threescore yeares since this trade began; but how it hath prospered since that time, it is easie to judge, for they are now supposed, of one sex and another, to amount unto about 10,000 persons; as I have heard reported. Moreover, in counterfeiting the Egyptian rogues, they have devised a language among themselves, which they name Canting, but other pedlers French, a speech compact thirtie years since of English, and a great number of od words of their own devising, without all order or reason; and yet such is it as none but themselves are able to understand. The first deviser thereof was hanged by the necke, a just reward no doubt for his deserts, and a common end to all of that profession....

The punishment that is ordeined for this kind of people is verie sharpe and yet it can not restreine them from their gadding; wherefore the end must needs be martiall law, to be exercised upon them, as upon theeves, robbers, despisers of all lawes, and enimies to the common-wealth and welfare of the land. What notable roberies, pilferies, murders, rapes, and stealings of yoong children, burning, breaking and disfiguring their lims to make them pitifull in the sight of the people, I need not to rehearse; but for their idle roging about the countrie, the law ordeineth this manner of correction. The roge being apprehended, committed to prison, and tried in the next assises (whether they be of gaole diliverie or sessions of the peace), if he happen to be convicted for a vagabond either by inquest of office, or the testimonie of two honest and credible witnesses upon their oths, he is then immediately adjudged to be greeviously whipped and burned through the gristle of the right eare, with a hot iron of the compasse of an inch about, as a manifestation of his wicked life, and due punishment received for the same. And this judgment is to be excuted upon him, except some honest person woorth five pounds in the queenes books in goods, or twentie shillings in lands, or some rich housholder to be allowed by the justices will be bound in recognisance to reteine him in his service for one whole yeare. If he be taken the second time, and proved to have forsaken his said service, he shall then be whipped againe, bored likewise through the other eare and set to service; from when if he depart before a yeare be expired, and happen afterwards to be attached againe, he is condemned to suffer paines of death as a fellon (except before excepted), without benefit of clergy or sanctuarie, as by the statute doth appeare. Among roges and idle persons finallie, we find to be comprised all proctors that go up and down with conterfeit licenses, coosiners, and such as gad about the countrie, using unlawfull games, practisers of physiognomie and palmestrie, tellers of fortunes, fensers, plaiers, minstrels, jugglers, pedlers, tinkers, pretensed scholars, shipmen, prisoners gathering for fees, and others so oft as they be taken without sufficient licence. From among which companie our bearewards are not excepted and just cause; for I have read that they have either voluntarilie, or for want of power to master their savege beasts, beene occasion of the death and devoration of manie children in sundrie countries by which they have passed, whose parents never knew what was become of them.” (Holinshed, vol. i.)

The great increase of rogues and vagabonds of all kinds led in the year 1561 to a proposition for a House of Correction. The plan or scheme of which was drawn out at full length, is published in ArchÆologia (vol. xxi. p. 451).

The House was to be strong and in two divisions: one for the men and the other for the women. It was to be built and furnished by the alms of the people where it was put up—in this case Westminster was proposed. In furnishing, care must be taken that everything should be simple, because “it is to be considered beforehand that ye shall have to do with the most desperatest people of the earth, geven to all spoyle and robbery and soch as will break from you and steale.”

For work, it must be of a kind that they cannot steal or destroy. A Mill, therefore, for the men, or a Lime Kiln; and for the women a Wheel for cotton wool or woollen yarn. Of officers there must be six Masters: a clerk; a porter and keeper; two beadles, and a miller.

The rations for the inmates were to be as follows:—To every four women, at every meal, one pound of beef, potage, bread and drink. To every two men working in the mill, double this allowance. The allowance of bread was to be sixteen ounces a day. The allowance of beer was to every four women one “pottell” of single beer a day, but to the men double that quantity. On fast days an equivalent of butter, cheese, herrings, “pescodes,” and such like.

There were to be two pairs of stocks and shackles for the refractory. The Matron was to be a strong woman—the Elizabethan female of the baser kind did not weaken her muscles and her nerves with tea; and, which is very significant, it is added, “ye must be careful of fyer, for the people are desperate and care not what mischief they do.”

I do not know whether this proposed House of Correction was erected or not.

The present seems the best place and time to speak of systematic attempts at Poor Relief.

The relief of the poor was a duty enjoined on all men. Almsgiving was considered especially a virtue becoming to kings and princes. Alfred gave alms continually. The Monastic Houses never turned away a beggar without a meal to speed him on his way. Rich and noble persons kept open house at Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide. Already the custom was commenced of leaving lands or money to the church or to the monastery saddled with the condition of alms to be bestowed on the anniversary of the donor. By the laws of Ethelred, which probably only confirmed a custom, the third part of the tithe due to the Church was to be set aside for the use of the poor. In the Canons of Ælfric the same proportion is enjoined to be so reserved. And in all the Monastic Houses a certain part of the revenues was expended on the Almonry or the Infirmary.

The custom of giving indiscriminately to any vagrant who demanded alms, created a class of “masterless” men who would do no work and wandered about the country. It took some centuries of this growing evil before men could be brought to connect vagrancy with indiscriminate almsgiving. At first the efforts made to repress vagrancy were directed towards compulsory work. No one dared to maintain, perhaps no one dared to think, that it was wrong to give alms to a beggar merely because he was a beggar; but every one understood that the labourer must somehow be made to work. Had the Clergy and the Monastic Houses perceived the truth, vagrancy might have been reduced to a few companies of outlaws and marauders. But we cannot blame the clergy of the thirteenth century for failing to understand what the clergy of the present century are still unable to understand. When the law interfered, the situation was wellnigh desperate. The Black Death of 1348–50 had made labour scarce and wages high. The necessity of suppressing able-bodied begging and of sending the able-bodied beggar back to his native place and his proper work was forced upon the Government. The Labour Statutes endeavoured to force men to work and to keep down wages. In the fourteenth century, just as to-day, there was a natural limit imposed upon wages by the price of grain and food. The rustic who understood nothing about this limit, naturally desired higher and still higher wages; if he could not get this increase in his own parish, he went elsewhere: he begged his way; he found food at the monastery; he tasted the joys of food which was got without any work for it; he therefore easily dropped into the condition of the masterless man and the able-bodied beggar.

In 1349 the law stepped in. No one must give alms, money, or food to the able-bodied, so that for lack of bread they might be compelled to work. The rustics, in order to escape the terrors of this law, ran about the country from place to place. They pretended to be lame, blind, dumb, paralysed; in this disguise they wandered about begging with impunity unless they were detected. They pretended (case of impostor—Riley) to go on pilgrimage: they joined companies of pilgrims, begging by the way, and so got along for a time without working. Therefore in 1388 other laws were framed. Nobody was allowed to beg at all without a letter granting him a license; nobody was allowed to go on pilgrimage without a license; nobody was to go anywhere outside his own part of the country without a license. If any were found without such warrant or permission they were clapped into the stocks. The Act endeavoured to put a stop not only to able-bodied vagrancy, but also to beggars who were crippled or afflicted, for they, too, were forbidden to roam.

The citizens of London were especially severe on masterless men.

The law, at the same time, recognised the duty of relieving the impotent, and the deserving poor, and the right of these to demand relief. Wherever they were found they were compelled to go back to the place to which they belonged by birth.

Nothing could be better or more effectual than these laws if they could have been enforced. But how were they to be enforced? Where were the police who might patrol the roads? How were the villagers disposed towards laws which made them accept whatever wages the Lord of the Manor chose to give them? In the City of London what were the opinions of the working class, of the craftsmen? And how could the Alderman in his ward ascertain that every man was following his own craft? No doubt the power of arresting, punishing, and sending to their own villages the wandering rustic, had the effect of keeping down the number of the beggars. In a short time, too, the natural increase of the population relieved the scarcity of labour. Moreover the relief of the poor by each parish was ordered by the setting aside of a portion of the tithe for their benefit (a revival of the Saxon law); and in those cases where the tithes went to a monastic house, the same portion should be payable by the monks or nuns. The jealousy with which the religious Orders were already regarded is shown by the enactment of this provision by Richard II. and its confirmation by Henry IV.

If the laws against grants of the fourteenth century had been enforced there would have been an end of the evil. Unfortunately, they could not be enforced. In the country there was no kind of Police; in London the City had outgrown the old government by Aldermen and Ward, and the people were overflowing the City boundaries and were beyond the jurisdiction of the Mayor. Now the control of the county would not be very effective, say, at Wapping or at Bermondsey, when the people began to settle there. During the whole of the fifteenth century the demand for able-bodied men for the war in France first, and the Civil wars next, was so great that there seem to have been few vagrants in the country. Indications, however, are by no means wanting of a “masterless” element in London.

The cessation of the wars threw a large number of men out of employment; worse than this, it found them unwilling or unable to settle down again to steady work. Other causes also operated to produce the same result. The English nobles had ceased to maintain their large retinues: no longer did an Earl of Warwick ride into London with seven hundred gentlemen and men-at-arms; Sir Thomas More says expressly that the men who formerly had been in this kind of service either starved or became thieves. Again, the changes in the industrial condition of the country threw many people out of work: lands formerly arable were turned into pasture; sheep runs took the place of cornfields; one shepherd was wanted instead of half-a-dozen labourers. There was again a great rise in prices, owing to the influx of silver. In fifty years provisions of all kinds were doubled in price while wages rose only thirty per cent. Add to these causes the continuance of indiscriminate almsgiving.

The evil grew continually during the whole of the sixteenth century.

Early in the sixteenth century the City of London began to pass regulations against vagrants. They forbade able-bodied vagrants to beg and citizens to give money to unlicensed beggars: in other words, they revived and enforced the old laws. Great strictness was ordered. Vagrants had the letter V fastened on their breasts, and were driven through Cheapside to the music of a basin ringing before them. Four surveyors were appointed to carry out these instructions. There was also an officer appointed, called “Master and Chief Avoyder and Keeper out of this City and the liberties of the same all the mighty vagabonds and beggars and all other suspected persons, except such as wear upon them the badge of the City.” The vagrants, when apprehended, were whipped at the cart’s tail; they also had to wear collars of iron about their necks. Those who were allowed to beg had tokens of tin given to them by the Aldermen. As for the relief of the deserving poor, there were the “Companies’ stores,” granaries of wheat provided for emergencies; alms were asked for every Sunday at the church doors; the old hospitals were suppressed at the Reformation until St. Bartholomew’s and St. Mary of Bethlehem were granted to the City by Henry VIII. and reopened as hospitals. The City did not show to advantage in giving money to the poor; we must remember that for many centuries charity had been understood as indiscriminate alms given by the Church and by rich men. What private persons gave was for the advantage of their souls. Latimer and Lever thundered in vain. Latimer says:—

“Now what shall we say of these rich citizens of London? What shall I say of them? Shall I call them proud men of London, malicious men of London, merciless men of London? No, no, I may not say so; they will be offended with me then. Yet must I speak. For is there not reigning in London as much pride, as much covetousness, as much cruelty, as much oppression and as much superstition as was in Nebo? Yes I think, and much more too.... But London was never so ill as it is now. In times past men were full of pity and compassion, but now there is no pity; for in London their brother shall die in the streets for cold, he shall lie sick at the door between stock and stock ... and perish there for hunger: was there ever more unmercifulness in Nebo? I think not. In times past, when any rich man died in London they were wont to help the poor scholars of the Universities with exhibitions. When any man died, they would bequeath great sums of money towards the relief of the poor. When I was a scholar in Cambridge myself I heard very good report of London, and knew many that had relief of the rich men of London; but now I can hear no such good report, and yet I inquire of it, and hearken for it; but now charity is waxen cold, none helpeth the scholar, nor yet the poor.”

Lever said:—

“Nowe speakynge in the behalfe of these vile beggars, ... I wyl tell the(e) that art a noble man, a worshipful man, an honest welthye man, especially if thou be Maire, Sherif, Alderman, baily, constable or any such officer, it is to thy great shame afore the worlde, and to thy utter damnation afore God, to se these begging as thei use to do in the streates. For there is never a one of these but he lacketh eyther thy charitable almes to relieve his neede, or els thy due correction to punysh his faute.... These sely sols have been neglected throughout al England and especially in London and Westminster: But now I trust that a good overseer, a godly Byshop I meane, wyl see that they in these two cyties shall have their neede releeved, and their faultes corrected, to the good ensample of al other tounes and cities.”

Then St. Thomas’s Hospital and Bridewell were obtained from the King. The latter was designed as a House of Instruction and Correction. It was to receive the child “unapt for learning”; the “sore and sick when they be cured”; and persons who have lost their character and either cannot work or cannot find any who will employ them. The children were to be made to work; the others were to be taught certain trades. They were to be such as would not interfere with the crafts carried on in the City.

The treatment of the poor began by being the work of the towns, each town working out its own experimental methods. This was followed by legislation in Parliament.

The Act of 1573, of which we have read Harrison’s account, enjoined boring through the ear and whipping, and at the third offence death. The Middlesex Sessions Rolls show that these sentences were actually carried out. Between 6th October and 14th December 1591, 71 vagrants were sentenced at the Sessions to be branded and whipped.

Who were vagrants? They were defined as proctors or procurators; persons pretending to knowledge in “Phisnomye, Palmestrye, and other abused Scyences,” masterless men; “fencers, bearewardes, players, minstrels,”—not belonging to some noble lord; jugglers, pedlars, tinkers, chapmen; labourers refusing customary wages; counterfeiters of passes; scholars of Oxford and Cambridge who beg without license; sailors not licensed; discharged prisoners without license; impotent poor. But of these, players, bearwards, and pedlars were allowed to carry on their calling subject to license.

In every parish the Justices of the Peace were to make a register of the names of the poor. Every month they were to search for strange poor.

Justices in the country and Mayors in London were to assess and tax the people for the relief of the poor; and those who refused to pay were to be imprisoned. Three years later it was ordered that “stock” of wool, flax, hemp, iron, or other stuff, should be provided for the work of the poor. Between 1575 and 1597 other statutes were passed for the prevention of increased settlement of poor families. No more houses to be built within three miles of London westward except for people assessed at £5 in goods or £3 in land. No tenement houses to be built, and no inmates to be received.

In 1597 there was great discussion in the House of Commons on the whole subject of poor relief. Finally an Act was passed by which the relief of the poor was placed in the hands of church-wardens and four overseers of Poor elected every Easter. They had to teach children and bind them apprentice; they provided work for the adult; they relieved the impotent; they built hospitals; they levied rates; they made Houses of Correction; they resorted to more whipping and to banishment, with death for return.

Next there is the interference of the Privy Council ordering the Justices of the Peace to look after the vagrants and to report. Here is a brief summary.

1573. Mayor has received a second letter from the Privy Council on subject of vagrants.

1579. Common Council considered the work of the poor at Bridewell and referred to Lords of the Council.

1583. Privy Council recommenced prevention of Irish beggars.

1594. City meets Justices of Middlesex on subject.

London—1572. Mayor issued precept to Aldermen to inquire about poor of every parish. Another precept to use the church-wardens—thus to assess the whole ward—to make them pay who had given nothing, and to make them pay more who had given too little.

In 1573. Assessments proving too little, collections were made in churches.

1576. Each parish was to elect a surveyor who every night for a week should help the constable, beadle, and church-wardens in visiting the houses and sending away vagrants.

Then followed a double method—relief and repression undertaken by the parish and municipal authorities together. The vagrants were taken to Bridewell, where the sick were picked out and sent to St. Thomas’s and St. Bartholomew’s—thence returned to Bridewell—and made to work for their diet. The parish looked after the rest of the poor. The children were sent to Christ’s Hospital. The impotent were relieved.

It seems as if so strict a system must have been successful. But it was not.

In 1601 the Act of 1579 was reconsidered and slightly altered.

1610. An Act for building one or more Houses of Correction in every county was brought in.

The supply of corn for the markets occupied Parliament a great deal between 1610 and 1630. There were bad harvests, and general distress. The Privy Council tried to prevent scarcity, to find work for the poor, and to regulate trade in the interests of the working classes. Against times of scarcity of fuel, a coalyard was established in London for the poor. Watchmen were provided in time of plague. More almshouses existed then than now for the old and impotent.

It is customary to speak of the time immediately following the Reformation as especially hard-hearted and uncharitable. For instance, here is a certain passage, one of many, in Stubbes’s Anatomie, which is certainly strong evidence of a lack of charity. It is as follows:—

“There is a certayne citie in Ailgna (Anglia) called Munidnol (Londinum) where as the poore lye in the streetes, upon pallets of strawe, and wel if they have that too, or els in the mire and dirt, as commonly it is seene, having neither house to put in their heades, covering to keepe them from the colde, nor yet to hyde their shame withall, nor a pennie to by them sustenaunce, nor any thing els, but are suffered to dye in the streetes like dogges or beastes, without any mercy or compassion shewed to them at all. And if any be sicke of the plague (as they call it) or any other mortall disease, their maisters and mistresses are so impudent (having made, it shoulde seeme, a league with Sathan, a covenant with hell, and an obligation with the devil, never to have to doe with the workes of mercie) as straight way they throwe them out of their doores: and so being caried forth, either in cartes or otherwise, or laied downe eyther in the streetes, or els conveiyed to some olde house in the fields or gardens, where for want of due sustentation, they ende their lives most miserably. Truely, brother, if I had not seene it, I would scarsly have thought that the like Turkishe crueltie had bene used in all the world.”[14]

I would again call attention, however, to a point which has already been mentioned in these pages. Before the suppression of the Religious Houses these places had taken over and held in their own hands the whole management of the poor, the sick, and the disabled, save those whom the City Companies took under their own care. For centuries, therefore, the people had been taught to regard the care of the sick and old, and in a great manner the feeding of the poor, as belonging especially to the Religious. It is part of the mediÆval mind that the poor do so belong to the monastic orders and not to the laity. When, therefore, the Houses were suppressed, the modern spirit of Charity had to be actually created in the hearts of the people. It was then that the education in philanthropy began which has been going on ever since.

This outburst of Stubbes is a first lesson in brotherly love. Another part of the same lesson is his tirade against hard-hearted creditors, which is quoted here, because it applies especially to the citizens of London, tender and compassionate in some respects, but flinty-hearted as regards the poor prisoners who cannot pay their debts:—

“Believe me, it greeveth me to heare (walking in the streetes) the pitifull cryes and miserable complayntes of poore prisoners in durance for debte, and like so to continue all their life, destitute of libertie, meate, drink (though of the meanest sort), and clothing to their backes, lying in filthie straw and lothsome dung, worse than anie dogge, voyde of all charitable consolation and brotherly comfort in this world, wishing and thirsting after deathe to set them at libertie, and loose them from their shackles, gives, and iron bandes. Notwithstanding, these merciless tygers (the usurers) are grown to such barbarous crueltie that they blush not to say ‘tush, he shall eyther pay me the whole, or else lye there till his heeles rotte from his buttocks; and, before I will release him, I will make dice of his bones.’ But, take heed, thou devil (for I dare not call thee Christian), least the Lord say to thee, as hee sayd to that wicked servant (who, having great summes forgiven him, would not forgive his brother his small debt, but, catching him by the throate, sayd Paie that thou owest), Binde him handes and feete, and cast him into utter darknesse, where shall bee weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

The charities of London consisted of Hospitals for the sick, almshouses, schools, and doles for the poor. It was customary for great men, ecclesiastics, and Religious Houses, to give every day large quantities of food to the poor, whereby they were encouraged to remain poor. Stow records many instances of this mischievous and promiscuous charity. Henry II., for instance, to show his repentance for the death of the Archbishop, fed every day 10,000 persons from the first of April till the harvest, a time of year when food is dearest and scarcest.

Let me follow Stow’s list of Foundations in chronological order.

1. In very ancient times the Hospital of St. James for leprous women.

2. In 1197 Domus Dei, or St. Mary Spital, outside Billingsgate.

3. In 1247 the Hospital of St. Mary Bethlehem turned afterwards into a lunatic asylum.

4. 1322 Elsing Spital for 100 poor men.

5. 1337 The College of St. Laurence Poultney.

6. 1358 The Almshouses of Stodies Lane.

7. 1367 John Lofken’s Hospital at Kingston-on-Thames.

8. 1384 John Philpot’s Almshouses for 13 poor people.

9. 1400 Thomas Knoles bequeathed his house as an almshouse.

10. Whittington’s College (1421), an almshouse for 13 poor men.

11. John Carpenter, almshouse for 4 poor men.

12. Robert Chicheley money for a dinner to 2400 poor men and twopence each on his “minde day.”

13. Philip Malpas, numerous benefactions to prisoners, poor folk, girls’ marriage portions, etc.

14. Richard Rawson, girls’ marriage portions.

15. Henry Keble, girls’ marriage portions and seven almshouses.

16. John Colet, St. Paul’s School, 353 poor men’s children.

17. John Tate enlarged and increased St. Anthony’s House and Almshouses.

18. George Monox, almshouses for 13 poor people at Walthamstow.

19. John Milbourne, almshouses for 14 poor people.

20. John Allen left rents for the use of the poor.

21. Andrew Judd, almshouses.

22. Richard Hills, the Merchant Taylors’ School.

23. Sir Thomas Gresham, almshouses.

24. Sir Thomas Rowe, almshouses.

25. Ambrose Nicolas, almshouses.

26. John Fuller, almshouses.

27. Dame Agnes Foster, enlargement of Ludgate Hill Prison.

28. Avice Gibson, almshouses.

29. Margaret Danne, money to be lent to young men beginning as ironmongers.

30. Dame Mary Ramsay, endowment of Christ’s Hospital.

The following are later endowments. Thus Sir Thomas White, citizen and Merchant Taylor, Mayor, purchased Gloucester Hall at Oxford; he founded St. John’s College there; he erected schools at Bristol and Reading; to Bristol he gave £2000 for the purchase of lands. This would produce £120 a year, which was to be administered by the Mayor of Bristol. He gave £800 to be lent to 16 poor Clothiers at £50 apiece as security for ten years, and after that the money to pass to other towns, i.e.

  • 1579 Reading
  • 1580 The Merchant Taylors’ Company
  • 1581 Gloucester
  • 1582 Worcester
  • 1583 Exeter
  • 1584 Salisbury
  • 1585 Westchester
  • 1586 Norwich
  • 1587 Southampton
  • 1588 Lincoln
  • 1589 Winchester
  • 1590 Oxford
  • 1591 Hereford
  • 1592 Cambridge
  • 1593 Shrewsbury
  • 1594 Lynn
  • 1595 Bath
  • 1596 Derby
  • 1597 Ipswich
  • 1598 Colchester
  • 1599 Newcastle.

He gave to the City of Coventry £1400 with which to purchase lands to the annual value of £70. Twelve poor men to have 40s. each free alms; then four young men were to have loans of £10 for nine years. He did the same thing for Northampton, for Leicester, and for Warwick. A worthy benefactor, indeed!

In 1560 Richard Hills gave £500 towards the purchase of a house called the Manor of the Rose, where the Merchant Taylors founded their school. At the same time William Lambert, Draper, Justice of the Peace in Kent, founded an almshouse for the poor in East Greenwich called Queen Elizabeth’s Almshouses.

In 1568 Sir Thomas Rowe gave the City a new burial-ground by Bethlehem Hospital; he also endowed a sermon every Whit Monday; gave £100 to be lent to eight poor men; and founded an endowment for the support of ten poor men, giving them four pounds a year.

William Lambe was a benefactor to the City in the sixteenth century. He was a cloth worker by trade. In the year 1543, on the suppression of the Religious Houses, he obtained possession by purchase of the smallest of them all, the Chapel or Hermitage standing at the corner of the wall at the end of Monkwell Street. It was called St. James’s in the Wall, and was endowed by Henry the Third. Lambe repaired or rebuilt the Chapel, and placed in the former garden or in the ancient buildings certain almshouses for bedesmen. In 1577 he died, leaving this foundation and other sums of money to the Clothworkers. The Great Fire spared a part of Lambe’s Chapel and Almshouses.

Lambe also drew together several springs of water near the present Foundling Hospital to a head, called after him Lamb’s Conduit, though the name is now spelt without the “e.” He then conveyed the water by leaden pipes to Snow Hill, where he rebuilt a ruinous conduit and laid in the water.

“He also founded a Free Grammar School at Sutton Valens, the Place of his Nativity, in Kent, with a master at £20, and an Usher at £10 per Ann. and an Alms-house for six poor people, endowed with £10 yearly. He gave £10 per Ann. to the Free School at Maidstone in Kent, for the Education of needy Men’s Children; three hundred pounds to the poor Clothiers in Suffolk, Bridgnorth and Ludlow in Shropshire. He left to the Clothworkers’ Company his Dwelling-House, a little to the South-West of Cripplegate, with Lands and Tenements to the value of £30 per Ann. for paying a Minister to read Divine Service on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, every week, in the Chapel adjoining to his House, called St. James, in the Wall by Cripplegate; and for Clothing twelve Men with a Frize Gown, one Lockram Shirt, and a good strong pair of Winter Shoes; and twelve Women with a Frize Gown, a Lockram Smock, and a good pair of Winter Shoes, all ready made for wearing; to be given to such as are poor and honest, on the first of October. He also gave £15 towards the Bells and Chimes of St. Giles’s Without Cripplegate; £6:13:4 yearly to the Company of Stationers, for the relief of twelve poor People of the Parish of St. Faith, under Paul’s, at the rate of 12d. in Money, and 12d. in Bread, to each of them, on every Friday through the year; £6 per Ann. and £100 to purchase Land, for the Relief of Children in Christ’s Hospital; £4 to St. Thomas’s Hospital in Southwark; besides some other Charities to the Prisons, and for portioning poor Maids.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 264.)

It will be seen that the building of almshouses was the favourite method of charitable endowment. Schools were occasionally endowed but not so commonly as almshouses. The sight of an old man broken down, unable to earn his bread, is one which appeals to the most hard-hearted. The necessity of educating the young was less understood, for the simple reason that the children of the working class were regarded as simply growing machines for labour, just as their fathers were regarded as machines in active working order whose opinions or wishes were never so much as asked, while any effort on their part to express an opinion was put down at once. This view of the working classes, which lasted till the middle of the nineteenth century, explains a great deal of what we now consider apathy on the part of those who should have known better; it explains among other things the opposition to reform, and the jealousy and dread of the working class; and it explains why so few schools were endowed in comparison with the number of almshouses.


The divers kinds of punishment and the laws are set forth by Harrison (Holinshed, vol. i.):—

“The greatest and most greevous punishment used in England, for such as offend against the state, is drawing from the prison to the place of execution upon an hurdle or sled, where they are hanged till they be halfe dead, and then taken downe and quartered alive, after that their members and bowels are cut from their bodies and throwne into a fire provided neere hand and within their one sight even for the same purpose. Sometimes if the trespasse be not the more hainous, they are suffered to hang till they be quite dead. And whensoever any of the nobilitie are convicted of high treason by their peeres, that is to saie, equals (for an inquest of yeomen passeth not upon them, but onlie of the lords of the parliament) this maner of their death is converted into the losse of their heads onlie, notwithstanding that the sentence doo run after the former order. In triall of cases concerning treason, fellonie, or anie other greevous crime not confessed, the partie accused doth yeeld, if he be a nobleman, to be tried by an inquest (as I have said) and his peeres; if a gentleman, by gentlemen; and an inferiour by God and by the countrie, to wit the yeomanrie (so combat or battle is not greatlie in use) and being condemned of fellonie, manslaughter, etc., he is eftsoons hanged by the necke till he be dead, and then cut downe and buried. But if he is convicted of wilful murder, doone either upon pretended malice, or in anie notable robberie, he is either hanged alive in chains neere the place where the fact was committed (or else upon compassion taken first strangled with a rope) and so continueth till his bonds consume to nothing. We have use neither of the wheele nor of the barre, as in other countries, but when wilful manslaughter is perpetrated, beside hanging, the offender hath his right hand commonlie striken off before or neere unto the place where the act was doone, after which he is led forth to the place of execution, and there put to death according to the law.” (See Appendix X.)

Felony was involved in various kinds of crime: such as breach of prison; disfiguring the person; robbery in disguise; rape; conspiracy against the prince; embezzlement of the master’s money; carrying horses into Scotland; stealing hawks’ eggs; unnatural offences; witchcraft, conjuring, sorcery, and digging up of crosses; prophesying upon arms, cognizances, names and badges; casting of slanderous bills; poisoning; desertion; clipping of coin; taking goods from dead men; highway robbery; stealing of deer; forging documents, etc., these were all, with some others, felony.

“If a woman poison her husband she is burned alive, if the servant kill his master he is to be executed for petie treason, he that poisoneth a man is to be boiled to death either in water or lead, although the partie die not of the practise; in cases of murther all the accessories are to suffer paines of death accordingly. Perjury is punished by the pillorie burning in the forehead with the letter P, the rewalting[15] of the trees growing upon the grounds of the offendors and losse of all his moveables. Manie trespasses also are punished by the cutting of one or both eares from the head of the offendor, as the utterance of seditious words against the magistrates, grain makers, petie robbers, etc. Roges are burned through the eares, carriers of sheep out of the land by the loss of their hands, such as kill by poison are either boiled or skalded to death in lead or seething water. Heretikes are burned quicke, harlots and their mates by carting, ducking, and dooing of open penance in sheets, in churches and market steeds are often put to rebuke.... Roges and vagabonds are often stocked and whipped, scolds are ducked upon cucking stooles in the water. Such fellons as stand mute and speak not at their arraignement are pressed to death by huge weights laid upon a boord, that lieth over their brest, and a sharpe stone under their backs, and these commonlie hold their peace, thereby to save their goods unto their wives and children, which if they were condemned should be confiscated to the prince. Theeves that are saved by their bookes and cleargie, for the first offense, if they have stolen nothing else but oxen, sheepe, monie, or such like, which be no open robberies, as by the high waie side or assailing of any man’s house in the night, without putting him in fear of his life, or breaking up of his wals or doores, are burned in the left hand, upon the brawne of the thumb with an hot iron, so that if they be apprehended againe, that marke bewraieth them to have been arraigned of fellonie before, whereby they are sure at that time to have no mercie. I doo not read that this custom of saving by the book is used anywhere else than in England, neither doo I find (after much diligent enquirie) what Saxon prince ordained that law.... Our third annoiers of the common-wealth are roges, which doo verie great mischief in all places where they doo become. For whereas the rich onlie suffer injurie by the first two, these spare neither riche nor poore; but whether it be great game or small, all is fish that commeth to net with them, and yet I saie that both they and the rest are trussed up apace. For there is not one yeare commonlie, wherein three hundred or four hundred of them are not devoured and eaten up by the gallowes in one place and other. It appearth by Cardane (who writeth it upon the report of the bishop of Lexouia) in the geniture of King Edward the sixt, how Henrie the eight, executing his laws verie severelie against such idle persons, I meane great theeves, pettie theeves and roges, did hang up threescore and twelve thousand of them in his time. He seemed for a while greatlie to have terrified the rest; but since his death the number of them is so increased, yea although we have had no warres, which are a great occasion of their breed (for it is the custom of the more idel sort, having but once served or seen the other side of the sea under colour of service to shake hand with labour, for ever, thinking it a disgrace for himself to return unto his former trade) that except some better order be taken, or the lawes be better made to be executed, such as dwell in uplandish towns and little villages shall live but in small safety and rest. For the better apprehension also of theeves and mankillers, there is an old law in England very well provided, whereby it is ordered, that if he that is robbed, or any man complaine and give warning of slaughter or murder committed, the constable of the village whereunto he cometh and crieth for succour, is to raise the parish about him, and to search woods, groves, and all suspected houses and places, where the trespasser may be, or is supposed to lurke; and not finding him there, he is to give warning unto the next constable, and so one constable after serch made to advertise another from parish to parish, till they come to the same where the offender is harbored and found. It is also provided, that if anie parish in this business doo not his dutie, but suffereth the theefe (for the avoiding of trouble sake) in carrieng him to the gaile, if he should be apprehended, or other letting of their worke, to escape the same parish, is not onlie to make fine to the king, but also the same with the whole hundred wherein it standeth, to repaie the partie robbed his damages, and leave his estate harmlesse. Certes this is a good law, howbeit I have knowne by mine owne experience, fellons being taken to have escaped out of the stocks, being rescued by other for want of watch and ward, that theeves have been let passe, bicause the covetous and greedie parishoners would neither take the paines, nor be at the charge to carrie them to prison, if it were far off, that when hue and crie have beene made even to the faces of some constables, they have said: ‘God restore your losse, I have other business at this time!’ And by such meanes the meaning of manie a good law is left unexecuted, malefactors imboldened, and manie a poore man turned out of that which he hath swet and taken great paines for, toward the maintenance of himself and his poore children and familie.” (Holinshed, vol. i.)

THE PILLORY
From a historical print in the British Museum.

Among the punishments mentioned above was that of boiling alive. One unfortunate, named Rose, a cook in the house of the Bishop of Rochester, poisoned eighteen persons, of whom two died. He seems to have done this wilfully. He was boiled to death. This fearful punishment was inflicted by lowering the criminal slowly, inch by inch, affixed to a post into a deep caldron full of boiling water. How long the torture lasted before the heart stopped is not recorded.

The penalty for bloodshed in the King’s Court was the loss of the right hand. The ceremony observed for such a punishment made a ritual of a remarkable and imposing ceremony.

The offender, to quote Pike (History of Crime, vol. ii. p. 83), “was brought in by the Marshal, and every stage of the proceedings was under the direction of some member of the royal household. The first whose services were required was the Serjeant of the Woodyard, who brought in a block and cords, and bound the condemned hand in a convenient position. The Master Cook was there with a dressing knife, which he handed to the Serjeant of the Larder, who adjusted it, and held it ‘till the execution was done.’ The Serjeant of the Poultry was close by with a cock, which was to have its head cut off on the block by the knife used for the amputation of the hand, and the body of which was afterwards to be used to ‘wrap about the stump.’ The Yeoman of the Scullery stood near, watching a fire of coals, and the Serjeant Farrier at his elbow to deliver the searing-irons to the surgeon. The chief Surgeon seared the stump, and the Groom of the Salcery held vinegar and cold water, to be used, perhaps, if the patient should faint. The Serjeant of the Ewry and the Yeoman of the Chandry attended with basin, cloths, and towels for the surgeon’s use. After the hand had been struck off and the stump seared, the Serjeant of the Pantry offered bread, and the Serjeant of the Cellar offered a pot of red wine, of which the sufferer was to partake with what appetite he might.”

On the off hip of the CroupiÈre.
EXECUTION OF A SAINT
On the near side of the CroupiÈre.
MARTYRDOM OF A SAINT
On the off side of the CroupiÈre.
THE STORY OF ST. AGATHA
On the off side of the CroupiÈre.
FURTHER PUNISHMENT OF ST. AGATHA
On the near side of the CroupiÈre.
TORTURE OF ST. GEORGE
On the near hip of the CroupiÈre.
BEHEADING OF A FEMALE SAINT
From the engravings upon Henry VIII.’s Armour in the Tower of London.

Pickpockets, still called cutpurses, abounded. They formed a distinct profession; there was even a school for them. This educational establishment was carried on by a certain man named Wotton, at a house near Billingsgate, in the year 1585. Purses were worn at the girdle, attached by a chain or by a leathern string, and the pickpocket could be known by the horn thimble worn on the right thumb to protect it from the knife with which he cut the purse. Maitland says (p. 269):—

“Amongest our travells this one matter tumbled owt by the waye, that one Wotton, a gentilman borne, kepte an Alehowse att Smarts Keye neere Byllingsgate, and reared upp a newe trade of lyffe, and in the same howse he procured all the Cuttpurses abowt this Cittie to repair to his said howse. There was a Schole Howse sett upp to learne younge boyes to cutt purses. There were hunge up two devices, the one was a pockett, the other was a purse. The pocket had in yt certen cownters, and was hunge abowte with hawkes bells, and over the toppe did hannge a little sacringe bell; the purse had silver in it; and he that could take owt a cownter without any noyse was allowed to be a publique ffoyster, and he that could take a peece of sylver owt of the purse without the noyse of any of the bells, he was adjudged a judiciall Nypper. Note that a ffoyster is a Pickpocte and a Nypper is termed a Pickepurse or a Cutpurse.”

Among the many additions to Literature made during the Elizabethan age we have as detailed a description of the rogues, vagabonds, and the criminal class in London as we can desire. Their tricks and cheats; their way of living; their language or slang, can all be read in books of the time. Harrison, already quoted, furnishes a great deal; more may be read in Awdeley, Harman and Rowlands, Dekker, etc. To spare the curious reader a great deal of trouble, he is referred to Furnivall’s Rogues and Vagabonds of Shakspere’s Youth.

Harman’s account of these cheats and rogues is full of entertaining anecdotes. For instance, there is the story of the robbery of his cauldron by the “Upryght men,” and how he recovered it:—

“I lately had standinge in my well house, which standeth on the backeside of my house, a great cawdron of copper, beinge then full of water, havinge in the same halfe a doson of pewter dishes, well marked, and stamped with the connizance of my armes, whiche being well noted when they were taken out, were set aside, the water powred out, and my caudren taken awaye, being of such bygnes that one man, unlesse he were of great strength, was not able far to cary the same. Notwithstandynge, the same was one night within this two yeares convayed more than half a myle from my house into a commen or heth, and ther bestowed in a great firbushe. I then immediatly the next day sent one of my men to London, and there gave warning in Sothwarke, kent strete, and Barmesey streete, to all the Tynckars there dwelling. That if any such Caudron came thether to be sold, the bringar therof should be stayed, and promised twenty shyllings for a reward. I gave also intelligence to the water men that kept the ferres, that no such vessel should be ether convayed to London or into essex, promysing the like reward, to have understanding therof. This my doing was well understand in many places about, and that the feare of espyinge so troubled the conscience of the stealer, that my caudoren laye untouched in the thicke firbushe more than halfe a yeare after, which, by a great chaunce, was found by hunters for conneys; for one chaunced to runne into the same bushe where my caudren was, and being perceaved, one thrust his staffe into the same bushe, and hyt my caudren a great blowe, the sound whereof dyd cause the man to thinke and hope that there was some great treasure hidden, wherby he thought to be the better whyle he lyved. And in farther searching he found my caudren; so had I the same agayne unloked for.”

The Hooker or Angler was one who by day walked about the streets, observing the windows and what was kept in them. At night he carried a stick fitted with a hook. He opened the window from the outside, and by means of his hook got out what he wanted. Once, says Harman, the Hookers dragged from a bed, in which lay asleep a man and two boys, the blankets and upper sheets, leaving them in their shirts.

BILLINGESGATE
Drawn in a M.S. by Hugh Alley, citizen & plumber 1598, in which He inveighs against Engropers & Aegrators, but without any Argument to support his opinion.

The Rogue professed a part and dressed up to it. Harman tells a story of two rogues who wanted to break into a house but could not, because it was of stone, with the mullions of the windows too close for them to creep in. They had, however, a “horse-lock.” They woke up the tenant, who had with him only an old woman, and begged for alms. He opened the window and held out his hand with a penny in it. They seized his hand: he naturally thrust out the other to succour the first; they seized that as well, and clasped the two into the horse-lock, so that he was a prisoner until he gave up all the money in the house.

The “wild” Rogue is a variety distinguished by greater courage. Harman quotes one as a beggar by inheritance. “His grandfather was a beggar; his father was one; and he must needs be one by good reason.”

The “Prygger of Prauncers” was a horse-stealer; the Pallyard of Clapperdogen was one of the counterfeit sick men; he knew how to raise blisters, and to create a sore place by means of spearwort or ratsbane. The former raises a blister which passes away in a night; the latter a sore place that is incurable.

The Frater—in the name we seem to catch a memory of the extinct Friar—carried at his girdle a black box, in which there was a licence (forged) to beg.

The Abram man was one who feigned to have been mad, and to have been kept in Bedlam for a term of years.

The Freshwater Mariner or Whipjack was a beggar who pretended to be a sailor on his way to get a ship; or who had recently been shipwrecked; or who had been robbed by pirates; and who showed a forged writing signed, as it seemed, by men of substance and position confirming his story.

The Counterfeit Crank was a pretended epileptic. He carried a piece of white soap, which he put into his mouth to represent the epileptic foam. Harman draws a lively picture of such a man. He begged about the Temple, his face covered with blood and his rags with mud and dirt. At noon he repaired to the back of Clement’s Inn, where in a lane leading to the fields he renewed the blood on his face from a bladder which he had with him, and daubed his jerkin and hose again with mud. A certain printer watched him: in the evening he took a boat across the river; the printer followed him and caused him to be taken up in St. George’s Fields as a common beggar. They took him to the Constable’s house, where they stripped off his rags, showing him to be a healthy and comely man with no sign of any disease; in his pockets they found the sum of thirteen shillings, three pence, and a halfpenny; they gave him an old cloak of the Constable’s, in which he sat by the fire and drank three quarts of beer; after which he threw off the cloak and ran away naked. But they found out where he lived, viz. in a “pretty house, well stuffed, with a fair joined table, and a fair cupboard garnished with pewter.” So they took him to Bridewell, where they painted him, first in his disguise, and next in his proper attire. Then they whipped him through London and brought him back to Bridewell, where he stayed till they thought fit to let him go.

The Dommerar pretended to be dumb: he carried a forged licence, and generally pretended to have lost his tongue. One of them was, unluckily for himself, caught by a surgeon, who proved that he had a tongue though he had neatly folded it away somewhere; and as the fellow still would not speak, the surgeon tortured him till he did. This done, they haled him before the magistrate, who administered the usual medicine.

The Drunken Tinker’s career may be dismissed; so may that of the Pedlar; the Jackman made false writings and forgeries.

The “Demander for Glymmar” was a woman who pretended to have been burned out, and carried a begging licence.

The Basket women carried laces, pins, needles and girdles for sale. They bought coney skins and they stole linen from the hedges.

The “Autem Morte” and the “Walking Morte” were also pedlars, and of evil repute.

The Doxy was the companion and the confederate of the Upright Man.

The Dell, the Kynchen Morte, and the Kynchen Cove were boys and girls in training for the life of the vagabond.

Queen Elizabeth was fond of driving into the country as well as going upon the river. One summer evening she rode out from Aldersgate, along the road now called Goswell Road, towards the village of Iseldon or Islington. Just outside the town she was surrounded and beset by a number of beggars, to her great annoyance. Wherefore she sent her running footman, Stone, to the Mayor and to the Recorder complaining of this nuisance. The Recorder sent out warrants that same night to the quarters complained of, and into Westminster, with the result that seventy-four beggars were apprehended and sent to Bridewell, where they were “punished” (i.e. soundly flogged). Some of them were found to be very rich and usurers.

The mob under Elizabeth did not venture in assemblies on acts of violence. One or two exceptions must be made. Once an armed company, headed by gentlemen, attacked Bridewell. Seeing that their object was the release of certain unrepentant women whose profession concerned the gentlemen only, it is probable that the whole of the rioters were gentlemen. On another occasion the ’prentices rose against foreigners. Instances of hatred between Spanish residents and citizens of London are common in the pages of Machyn. Thus on October 15, 1554, a Spaniard killed a servant of Sir George Gifford without Temple Bar. The cause of the quarrel is not stated. Ten days afterwards the unfortunate foreigner was hanged at Charing Cross. On the 4th of November following there was a great fray at Charing Cross between Spaniards and English. Not many were hurt, and those who began it were arrested, especially a blackamoor. In January another Englishman was murdered by three Spaniards, two of whom held him while the other ran him through. In April was hanged a certain person, servant to a poulterer. He robbed a Spaniard in Westminster Abbey, and for the offence was condemned to be hanged for three days, and then to be buried under the gallows. He was hanged in a gown of tawny frieze, and a doublet of tawny taffeta, with hose lined with sarcenet. Before being turned off he railed at the Pope and the Mass.

Of street violence there was still a great deal, but not so much as formerly. The following letter speaks for itself.

“On Thursday laste (Feb. 13th 1587) as my Lorde Rytche was rydynge in the streates, there was one Wyndam that stode in a dore, and shotte a dagge at him, thynkynge to have slayne him; but God provyded so for my L. Rytche that this Wyndam apoyntynge his servant that mornynge to charge his dagge with 11 bulletts, the fellow, doubtinge he mente to doe sum myschefe with it, charged it only with powder and paper, and no bullett; and so this L.’s lyfe was thereby saved, for otherwyse he had beene slayne. Wyndam was presently taken by my Lord Rytche’s men, and, beynge broughte before the Counsell, confessed his intende, but the cause of his quarrell I knowne not; but he is commyted to the Towre. The same daye also, as Sir John Conway was goynge in the streetes, Mr. Lodovyke Grevell came sodenly uppon him, and stroke him on the hedd with a sworde, and but for one of Sir John Conwaye’s men, who warded the blow, he had cutt off his legges; yet did he hurte him sumwhat on bothe his shynns; the Councelor sente for Lodovyke Grevell and have commytted him to the Marchallcye.” (Drake, Shakespeare and his Times, vol. ii.)

The cucking-stool, trebucket, or tumbril, for the ducking of a scold, was commonly found in every village. There were several kinds of it. One was a chair set at the end of a braser which acted on a see-saw principle; one a stump put into the ground at the edge of the water. Another was a “standard” fixed at the entrance of a pond. To this was attached a long pole, at the extremity of which was fastened the chair. Such an one stood almost within the memory of man at the great reservoir in the Green Park. Another kind was a sort of cart on four wheels, with a braser, at the end of which was the chair. All over Oxford these things are found, also at Wootton Bassett, Broad Water Worthing, Leominster, Marlborough, Newbury, Scarborough, Warwick, Ipswich. In 1777 a woman was ducked at Whitchurch.

The trial of Ben Jonson, an account of which has been recovered by Mr. John Cordy Jeafferson for the Middlesex County Record Society, began with the inquest on the body of one James Feake, held in Holywell Street, St. Leonard’s Shoreditch, in the thirty-ninth year of Queen Elizabeth, and on the 10th day of December. The said James Feake was killed in a brawl by one Gabriel Spencer, who struck him with his sword in its scabbard in the right eye, so that he fell down, and after languishing for three days, died of the wound. What was done to Gabriel Spencer does not appear. Perhaps the case was treated as one of self-defence. However, Gabriel Spencer presently met with his reward. For in the month of September following, viz. in 1598, the said Gabriel fell to quarrelling with a young man named Ben Jonson, in Shoreditch, or Hoxton Fields; from words they quickly came to blows, and Gabriel was pierced by Ben Jonson’s sword through the right side, so that he died immediately. Jonson was thrown into prison and was tried for manslaughter, not for murder. He pleaded guilty; he also pleaded his clergy, read his “neck-verse,” and was released in accordance with the statute 18 Eliz. c. 7, after being branded in the hand with what the London people called the Tyburn T.

I have found one instance, the earliest, of a kind of transportation. Among Frobisher’s Company were six men condemned to death. Their sentence was commuted into banishment. They were sent on board Frobisher’s ship, to be landed on the shores of “Freezeland,” that is Greenland or Labrador, with weapons and provisions. They were instructed to win the good-will and friendship of the natives and to inquire into their “estate.” In other words, to find out all that could be learned concerning them. It is unfortunate that history makes no further mention of these pioneers.

THE CUCKING-STOOL.
From an old print in the British Museum.

The story of Thomas Appletree: his terrible accident; his deadly peril; his repentance; and his pardon, is pathetic. I suffer Stow to tell it in his own words:—

“The seventeenth day of July, the Queenes moste excellent Maiestie, being in ye river of Thamis, betwixt hir Highnesse Mannour of Greenewiche and Detteforde, in hur privie Barge, accompanyed with Monsier Schemere the French Embassadour, the Earle of Lincolne, and Maister Vizchamberlaine, etc., with whim she entred discourse about waightie affaires; it chanced that one Thomas Appletree, a yong man and servant to Maister Henrie Carie, with two or three children of hir Maiesties Chappell, and one other named Barnard Acton, being in a Boate on the Thamis, rowing up and downe betwixte the places above named, the foresaide Thomas Appletree hadde a Caliver or Harquebuze, whych he hadde three or foure times discharged with Bullet, shooting at randone very rashly, who by greate misfortune shot one of the Watermen, being the seconde man nexte unto the Bales of the saide Barge, labouring with hys Oare (whyche sate wythin five feete of hir Highnesse), cleane through bothe hys armes; the blowe was so greate and greevous, that it moved him out of his place, and forced hym to crye and scritche oute piteouslye, supposing hymselfe to be slain, and saying, he was shot through the body. The man bleeding abundantly, as though he had had 100 Daggers thrust into hym, the Queenes Maiestie showed such noble courage as is moste wonderfull to be heard and spoken of, for beholding hym so maimed, and bleding in such force, she never bashed thereat, but shewed effectually a prudent and magnanimous heart, and moste courteously comforting the pore man, she bad hym be of good cheere, and saide hee should want nothing that might bee for his ease, commaunding hym to be covered till such time as hee came to the shoare, till which time hee lay bathing in his owne bloud, which might have been an occasion to have terrified the eyes of the beholders. But such and so great was the courage and magnanimitie of our dread and soveraigne Ladie, that it never quailed. To be short, Thomas Appletree and the rest were apprehended and brought before her honorable Counsell, who with great gravitie and wisedome employed their times verie carefully, and with greate diligence examined the saide Appletree and his companions, and finding the case moste hainous and wicked, justly pronounced againste him the sentence of death, and commit him to the Marshalsea in Southwarke, from whence ye Tuisday following hee was brought through the Citie with the Knight Marshalles men, ledde up to the Tower Hill, and so to Radcliffe upp to Blackwall, and so downe to the waterside, where was a Gibet sett upp, directly placed betwixte Detforde and Greenewiche, for the execution of this malefactour, who in deed verie pitifully bewayled the offence hee had committed, and as well in prison as by the waie prepared himselfe verie penitently and willingly to offer his body to the death.

Thus verie godly hee purposed to finish his miserable and wretched life, and so prepared himselfe to ascend and goe upp the Ladder, and being on the same, he turned himselfe, and spake to the people as followeth: Good people, I am come hither to die, but God is my Judge, I never in my life intended hurt to the Queenes Most excellent Maiestie, nor meant the harme of any creature, but I pray to God with all my heart long to prosper and keepe her Highnes in health, who blesse and defende her from all perilles and daungers, who prosper her in all her affaires, and blesse her moste Honorable Counsell, giving them grace to doe all things to the glorie of God, and the benefit of this realme; but of all things I am moste sorie for my offence, and wofully bewaile the same; and more, I am penitent and sorie for my good Maister, Maister Henrie Carie, who hath been so grieved for my fault, suffering rebuke for the same: I would to God I had never been borne that have so grievously offended him. And with that the teares gusht oute of his eyes verie faste. This saide, hee persuaded all men to serve God, and to take an example by him, and every night and morning moved them devoutly to say the Lord’s Prayer. And as the executioner had put the rope about his necke, the people cried stay, stay, stay, and with that came the right Honorable sir Christopher Hatton, Vizchamberlaine to her highnes, who enquired what hee had confessed, and being certified, as is before expressed, hee bailed his bonet, and declared, that the Queenes Maiestie had sent him thither both to make the cause open to them how hainous and greevous the offence of ye said Thomas Appletree was, and further to signify to him her gracious pleasure; and so continued his message, as ye may reade it printed by itself, and annexed to this discourse. Which, when he had declared, the hangman was commanded to take the roape from his necke. Appletree being come downe from the Ladder, received his pardon, and gave God and the Prince praise for so great a benefite as he had by her moste gracious bountie received. This done, Maister Vizchamberlaine saide: Good people pray for the Queenes Maiestie, and then was this prayer saide, which is usually reade (for the preservation of her Maiestie) in the Church: O Almighty and everlasting God, the Lord of Lords, and King of Kings, which dost fro’ thy throne behold all the dwellers of the earth, most heartily we beseech thee with thy favour to behold our moste gracious soveraigne lady Queen Elizabeth, etc. Whereunto all the people joyfully accorded to saye Amen, crying, God save the Queen: casting up their Cappes.” (Stow’s Chronicles of England.)

One of the last cases of ordeal by battle belongs to the year 1571.

“The eighteenth of June, in Trinitie terme, there was a combat appointed to have been fought for a certeine manour and demaine lands belonging thereunto in the Ile of Hartie, adjoining to the Ile of Shepie in Kent. Simon Low and John Kime were plaintifs, and had brought a writ of right against Thomas Paramore, who offered to defend his right by battell. Whereupon the plaintiffs aforesaid accepted to answer his challenge, offering likewise to defend their right to the same manour and lands, and to prove by battell, that Paramore had no right nor good title to have the same manour and lands. Hereupon the said Thomas Paramore brought before the judges of the common plees of Westminster, one George Thorne, a big, broad, strong set fellow; and the plaintifs Henrie Nailer, maister of defense, and servant to the right honourable the earle of Leicester, a proper slender man, and not so tall as the other. Thorne cast downe a gantlet, which Nailer tooke up, upon the sundaie before the battell should be tried. On the next morow, the matter was staied, and the parties agreed, that Paramore being in possession should have the land, and was bound in five hundred pounds to consider the plaintifs, as upon hearing the matter the judges should award. The queens majestie abhorring bloodshed, and (as the poet very well saith)

“Tristia sanguinei deuitans praelia campi”

was the taker up of the matter, in this wise. It was thought good, that for Paramore’s assurance, the order should be kept touching the combat, and that the plaintifs Low and Kime should make default of appearance; but that yet such as were sureties for Nailer their champions appearance, should bring him in; and likewise those that were sureties for Thorne, should bring in the same Thorne, in discharge of their band; and that the court should sit in Tuthill Fields where was prepared one plot of ground of one and twentie yards square, double railed for the combat. Without the west square a stage being set up for the judges, representing the court of the common plees.

All the compasse without the lists was set with scaffolds one above another, for people to stand and behold. There were behind the square where the judges sat, two tents, the one for Nailer, the other for Thorne. Thorne was there in the morning timelie, Nailer about seven of the clock came through London, apparelled in a doublet, and gallie gascoine breeches all of crimsin satin, cut and rased, a hat of blacke velvet, with a red feather and band, before him drums and fifes plaieng. The gantlet cast downe by George Thorne was borne before the said Nailer upon a sword’s point, and his baston (a staffe of an ell long, made taper wise, tipt with horne) with his shield of hard leather was borne after him, as Askam a yeoman of the queenes gard. He came into the place at Westminster and staieng not long before the hall door, came back into the king’s street, and so along thorough the Sanctuarie and Tuthill street into the field, where he staied till past nine of the clocke, and then Sir Jerome Bowes brought him to his tent: Thorne being in the tent with Sir Henrie Cheinie long before.

About ten of the clocke, the court of common plees remooved, and came to the place prepared. When the Lord chief Justice, with two other his associates were set, then Low was called solemnlie to come in, or else to lose his writ of right. Then after a certeine time, the suerties of Henrie Nailer were called to bring in the said Nailer, champion for Simon Low. And shortlie thereupon, Sir Jerome Bowes, leading Nailer by the hand, entred with him the lists, bringing him downe that square by which he entred, being on the left hand of the judges, and so about till he came to the next square, just against the judges, and there making courtesie, first with one leg and then with the other, passed foorth till he came to the middle of the place, and then made the like obeisance and so passing till they came to the barre, there he made the like courtesie, and his shield was held up aloft over his head. Nailer put off his netherstocks, and so barefoot and barelegged, save his silke scauilones to the ankles, and his dublet sleeves tied up above the elbow, and bareheaded, came in, as is aforesaid. Then were the suerties of George Thorne called to bring in the same Thorne; and immediately Sir Henry Cheinie entering at the upper end on the right hand of the judges, used the like order in comming about by his side, as Nailer had before on that other side; and so comming to the barre with like obeisance, held up his shield. Proclamation was made that none should touch the barres, nor presume to come within the same, except such as were appointed.

After all this solemne order was finished, the lord chiefe justice rehearsing the maner of bringing the writ of right by Simon Low, of the answer made thereunto by Paramore, of the proceeding therein, and how Paramore had challenged to defend his right to the land by battell, by his champion Thomas Thorne, and of the accepting the triall that was by Low with his champion Henrie Nailer; and then for default of appearance in Low he adjudged the land to Paramore, and dismissed the champion, acquiting the suerties of their bands. He also willed Henrie Nailer to render againe to George Thorne his gantlet. Whereto the said Nailer answered, that his lordship might command him anie thing, but willingly he would not render the said gantlet to Thorne except he could win it. And further he challenged the said Thorne to play with him half a score blowes, to shew some pastime to the lord chiefe justice and to the other there assembled. But Thorne answered, that he came to fight, and would not plaie. Then the lord chiefe justice commending Nailer for his valiant courage, commanded them both quietlie to depart the field, etc.” (Stow’s Chronicles of England.)


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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