Produced by Chris Curnow, Les Galloway and the Online
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Transcriber’s Notes.
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation and spelling remain unchanged except where in conflict
with the index.
Italics are represented thus _italic_, and superscripts thus 6^{th}.
The ancient documents reproduced, particularly in Appendix IX, contain
abbreviations represented by symbols no longer in use. These have been
represented by the tilde˜ .
Lower case Latin numbers surmounted by xx (score) are shown thus iiij∕xx.
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LONDON IN THE TIME OF THE TUDORS
_With 146 Illustrations and a Reproduction of Agas’ Map of London in
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The Survey of London
MEDIÆVAL
LONDON
ECCLESIASTICAL
MEDIÆVAL
LONDON
VOL. II
ECCLESIASTICAL
BY
SIR WALTER BESANT
[Illustration]
LONDON
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
1906
CONTENTS
PART I
THE GOVERNMENT OF LONDON
CHAP. PAGE
1. THE RECORDS 3
2. THE CHARTER OF HENRY THE SECOND 8
3. THE COMMUNE 11
4. THE WARDS 24
5. THE FACTIONS OF THE CITY 35
6. THE CENTURY OF UNCERTAIN STEPS 66
7. AFTER THE COMMUNE 72
8. THE CITY COMPANIES 108
PART II
ECCLESIASTICAL LONDON
1. THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 127
2. CHURCH FURNITURE 159
3. THE CALENDAR OF THE YEAR 164
4. HERMITS AND ANCHORITES 170
5. PILGRIMAGE 179
6. ORDEAL 191
7. SANCTUARY 201
8. MIRACLE AND MYSTERY PLAYS 213
9. SUPERSTITIONS, ETC. 218
10. ORDER OF BURIAL 223
PART III
RELIGIOUS HOUSES
1. GENERAL 227
2. ST. MARTIN’S-LE-GRAND 234
3. THE PRIORY OF THE HOLY TRINITY, OR CHRIST CHURCH PRIORY 241
4. THE CHARTER HOUSE 245
5. ELSYNG SPITAL 248
6. ST. BARTHOLOMEW 250
7. ST. THOMAS OF ACON 263
8. ST. ANTHONY’S 268
9. THE PRIORY OF ST. JOHN OF JERUSALEM 270
10. THE CLERKENWELL NUNNERY 284
11. ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST, OR HOLIWELL NUNNERY 286
12. BERMONDSEY ABBEY 288
13. ST. MARY OVERIES 297
14. ST. THOMAS’S HOSPITAL 309
15. ST. GILES-IN-THE-FIELDS 311
16. ST. HELEN’S 313
17. ST. MARY SPITAL 322
18. ST. MARY OF BETHLEHEM 325
19. THE CLARES 329
20. ST. KATHERINE’S BY THE TOWER 334
21. CRUTCHED FRIARS 342
22. AUSTIN FRIARS 344
23. GREY FRIARS 348
24. THE DOMINICANS 354
25. WHITEFRIARS 360
26. ST. MARY OF GRACES 363
27. THE SMALLER FOUNDATIONS 365
28. FRATERNITIES 382
29. HOSPITALS 385
APPENDICES
1. LIST OF WARDS OF LONDON 391
2. LIST OF ALDERMEN 393
3. ALPHABETICAL LIST OF ALDERMEN WHOSE NAMES ARE AFFIXED TO DEEDS
IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY 395
4. LIST OF PARISHES 397
5. PATRONAGE OF CITY CHURCHES 400
6. FESTIVALS 401
7. AN ANCHORITE’S CELL 404
8. THE MONASTIC HOUSES 406
9. A DOMINICAN HOUSE 407
10. THE PAPEY 411
11. CHARITABLE ENDOWMENT 413
12. FRATERNITIES 420
INDEX 423
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Extract from Letter-Book E, dated 1316, relating to the
Grocers’ Company 5
Obverse and Original Reverse of the Seal of the City of London,
showing Figure of St. Thomas à Becket 13
Old Mayoralty Seal, Thirteenth Century 15
King John signing Magna Charta _Facing_ 20
Aldgate House, Bethnal Green 25
Parts of the South and West Walls of a Convent 30
The Tower of London about 1480 39
The Crown offered to Richard III. at Baynard’s Castle _Facing_ 56
King Richard holding a Council of Nobles and Prelates 61
Henry of Bolingbroke challenges the Crown 62
Richard II. consulting with his Friends in Conway Castle 63
Richard II. and his Patron Saints 69
Whittington and his Cat 73
Death of Whittington 74
Crossbowman 77
The Morning of Agincourt 81
Facsimile of Heading of Account, 1575-1576, showing Cooper at Work 85
South-East View of the Old House lately standing in Sweedon’s
Passage, Grub Street 91
South-West View of Gerrard’s Hall _Facing_ 100
Facsimile of Surgeons’ Arms, 1492, with St. Cosmo and St. Damian
supporting 101
Interior of the Guildhall 103
A Tally for 6s. 8d. issued by Edward I.’s Treasurer to the
Sheriff of Lincolnshire 105
Election Garland given by Robert and Cicely Chamberlayn, 1463 105
A Bagpipe-Player 110
Illustration from Zeller’s _La France Anglaise et Charles VII._ 111
The Seal of the Vintners’ Company, 1437 112
Tombstone of William Warrington, Master Mason, at
Croyland Abbey, 1427 113
Coopers’ Marks, A.D. 1420 114
Part of Facsimile of the Original Charter granted by
King Richard III. to the Worshipful Company of Wax Chandlers
of the City of London (16th February, 1 Richard III.) 116
Liverymen of London 117
Frontispiece to the Grangerised Edition of Brayley’s _London
and Middlesex_ _Facing_ 118
William Smallwood, Master of the Pewterers’ Company 121
St. Ethelburga’s Church, Bishopsgate Street 129
The Prioress 131
The Monk and his Greyhounds 131
Chantry Chapel of Henry V. in Westminster Abbey 133
Earl of Northumberland receiving Mass 135
Interesting Antiquities in Westminster Abbey _Facing_ 138
Savoy Chapel and Palace 141
The Lollard’s Tower, Lambeth Palace 149
Knights of the Holy Ghost embarking for the Crusades 151
A Priest called John Ball stirs up great Commotion in England 155
Embroidery of the Fourteenth Century, supposed to be part of a
Frontal or Antependium 160
Archbishop of Canterbury preaching on behalf of Henry,
Duke of Lancaster 161
Queen Margaret, Wife of Henry VI., at Prayers 168
All Hallows, London Wall 175
Wilsdon, Middlesex 181
The Tabard Inn, Borough 187
Boss from the Ruins of the East Cloister of St. Bartholomew’s
Priory 195
Sanctuary Knocker, Durham Cathedral 202
The Martyrdom of St. Thomas 203
Brasses in St. Bartholomew the Less, Smithfield 207
The Sanctuary Church at Westminster 209
North-West View of the Ruins of the Bishop of Winchester’s Palace,
Southwark 215
Torments of Hell 219
The Chapel of the Hospital for Lepers in Kent Street, Southwark,
called Le Lock _Facing_ 220
Funeral Service 223
North View of the Oratory of the Ancient Inn situated in
Tooley Street, Southwark, and formerly belonging to the Priors
of Lewes in Sussex 229
The Sanctuary of St. Martin’s-le-Grand 235
Plan of Holy Trinity Priory (Ground Floor Story)}
} _Between_ 244 _and_ 245
Plan of Holy Trinity Priory (Second Floor Story)}
The Charter House 246
Conjectural Restoration of the Buildings of the Priory Church of
St. Bartholomew the Great as existing in Prior Bolton’s time
(about A.D. 1530) 251
Part of the Choir, with the Remains of the South Transept, of the
Church of St. Bartholomew the Great 252
Tomb of Prior Rahere 253
The Gate of St. Bartholomew’s Priory 255
St. Bartholomew the Less 257
Interior of St. Bartholomew the Great 259
Eastern Cloister of St. Bartholomew’s Priory 261
Seal of the Hospital of St. Thomas of Acon 263
Becket receiving a letter from Henry II. constituting him
Chancellor. Consecration of Becket to the See of Canterbury.
Becket approaching the King with Disapprobation 265
The Priory of St. John of Jerusalem, London 271
Crypt of St. John’s Church, Clerkenwell 273
“The Templars”: an Ancient House at Hackney 275
Knight Templar 276
Knight Templar: Temple Church 276
An Effigy at the Temple Church, erroneously described as that
of Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville 277
Interior of the Temple Church 279
Ancient Cloisters in Clerkenwell 285
The Arms and Seals of the Prior and Convent of St. Saviour at
Bermondsey 289
Bermondsey Abbey 293
A General View of the Remains of Bermondsey Abbey, Surrey _Facing_ 294
Figure of a Knight Templar }
} 298
Traditional Figure of Old Overie }
Gower’s Monument, St. Mary Overies 299
Bishop Andrewes’ Tomb, St. Mary Overies 301
Gateway of St. Mary’s Priory, Southwark 303
Ancient Crypt, Southwark 305
North-East View of St. Saviour’s Church 307
South-West View of the Interior of the Church of St. Helen,
Bishopsgate Street 314
South-East View of the Nunnery of St. Helen, Bishopsgate Street 315
The Crypt of the Nunnery of St. Helen, in Bishopsgate Street 317
Seals of St. Helen’s Nunnery 319
The Gothic Altar-piece in the Collegiate Church of St. Katherine,
with the Monuments of the Duke of Exeter and of the
Hon. G. Montague 335
The Church of Austin Friars 345
Arms of Sir R. Whittington, Grey Friars, now Christ’s Hospital 348
Christ’s Hospital, from the Cloisters 349
“Ye Plat of Ye Graye Friers,” A.D. 1617 351
Blackfriars’ Priory 355
A Column of the Hall of Blackfriars’ Priory 357
Crypt of Old Whitefriars’ Priory 361
Flagellants 367
Interior of Old Lambe’s Chapel, Monkwell Street 369
Exterior of the South Side of Old Lambe’s Chapel 371
North-East View of the Chapel of the Holy Trinity, Leadenhall,
in the Parish of St. Peter-upon-Cornhill, London 375
Hall of the Brotherhood of the Holy Trinity 383
Page of the Roll containing the names of the “Brethren and Sisters”
of the Guild of Fraternity of Corpus Christi,
1485, 1486, 1488 _Facing_ 384
North-West View of the Chapel and Part of the Great Staircase
leading to the Hall of Bridewell Hospital, London 386
PART I
THE GOVERNMENT OF LONDON
CHAPTER I
THE RECORDS
Before entering upon the government of London under the Plantagenet
Kings, let us first ask what are the documents in which we shall find
information at first hand.
No city in the world possesses a collection of archives so ancient
and so complete as the collection at the Guildhall. Riley, in his
Introduction to the _Liber Albus_, begins his list of those who have
consulted the archives with John Stow. Surely, however, the compiler
of the _Liber Albus_ itself, John Carpenter, also consulted archives
even in his day valuable and ancient. Strype, in the preparation of his
Edition of Stow, also consulted the City archives:—
“Again,” he says, “another Thing, that Labour and Diligence hath been
bestowed in, relates to the Laws, Customs and Usages of the City.
Wherein the Liberties and Privileges, as well as the Duties of the
Citizens, are contained. And therefore ought to be known by them, and
in that regard necessary to be set down, as accurately and largely as
might be; being Things so material for them to be advised of. This was
laudably begun by A. M. in the last Edition: but very much improved and
enlarged in this. And to enable me the better in the doing the same,
it was not only necessary to gather up, and present the many and most
important Acts of Parliament and Common Council, relating to the City
and its Affairs; but also to have recourse to the authentick Books and
Records belonging to the Chamber of London: Where many ancient and
curious Matters of this nature might be found. But this seemed to be
somewhat difficult to be obtained. Yet by the Help of some friends of
Quality and good Account, and making the Court of Aldermen acquainted
with my Design, and requesting their Leave and Licence, I obtained an
Order from them to Mr. Ashhurst, then Town Clerk, to give me Access
to some of their Books, that might be most to my Purpose, and their
Allowance to transcribe what I thought convenient out of them: but
withal I was enjoined by the Court to leave in Mr. Town Clerk’s hands
all my Notes that I should so collect thence, to be reviewed and
examined; lest some things published from them might seem prejudicial
some way or other to the City, or be judged not so convenient to be
known; or lest any Mistakes might be made by me in transcribing. Which
(as was fit), I readily complied with. Many Remarks I took out thence,
respecting both the ancient State of the City, and also of the Courts,
the Customs, the Magistrates, the Officers, &c. The Chief Books I
conversed with, were those two famous ancient Volumes, the one called
_Liber Horne_, from the Writer, the other called _Liber Albus_, _i.e._
the White Book. Both so often made use of and cited by Mr. Stow. This
last mentioned Book was composed in Latin, An. 1419. 7. H. 5. mense
Novembris. And what it contains is known by what is writ in one of the
First Pages, viz. Continens tam laudabiles Observantias, non scriptas,
in dict. Civitate fieri solitas, quam notabilia memoranda, &c., sparsim
et inordinate scripta. That is, ‘Containing as well laudable Customs,
not written, wont to be observed in the said City, as other notable
things worthy remembering, here and there scatteringly, not in any
Order written.’ The Compiler of this White Book was one Carpenter:
whose Name fairly and largely writ fronts the first page. Who I suppose
may be that J. Carpenter, sometime Town Clark in the Reign of Henry V.,
mentioned by Stow in his Survey among the worthy Benefactors of the
City: and whose Gifts are there set down. In this Volume are inserted
Memorials of the Maiors, Sheriffs, Recorders, Chamberlains, and the
other chief officers of the City: likewise all the Charters granted
by the several Kings of England from William the Conqueror: and the
Confirmations thereof. There is also a Tract of the Manner and Order,
‘How Barones & Universitas Civitat. London, &c. That is, the Barons
(_i.e._ the Freemen) and Commonality of the City of London, ought to
behave and carry themselves towards the King and his Justitiaries
Itinerants in the Time it pleaseth the King to hold Pleas of the Crown
at the Tower of London: Together with many other Matters and Subjects,
contained in this Choice MS.’
* * * * *
The other Book, which I had also the favour of perusing, namely
_Horne_, was near an Hundred Years older, so named from Andrew Horne,
sometime Chamberlain of the City, viz. in the time of King Edward the
Second. What this Book contains, is told by this Inscription in one
place of it, viz. ‘Iste Liber restat Andreae Horne Piscenario London,
de Breggestrete. In quo continentur Cartae, & aliae Consuetudines
predict. Civitat. Angliae & Statuta per Henricum Regem, & Edwardum
Regem fil. predict. Regis Henrici edita.’ And again, ‘In isto Libro
continentur tota Statuta, & Ordinationes & Cartae & Libertates, &
Consuetudines Civitat. London & Ordo Justitiorum itinerantium apud
Turrim Lond. & ipsum iter.’
[Illustration: EXTRACT FROM LETTER-BOOK E, DATED 1316, RELATING TO THE
GROCERS’ CO.]
Another Book also there was in the Chamber, which I also perused for
the same purpose, called _Liber Custumarum_. The First Tract whereof
is, de Laudibus Nobilitatis Insulae Britanniae. It is in old French,
and consisteth of thirteen chapters; Beginning thus—
‘De Britaigne, que ore est appele Engleterre, & qui est si benure sur
toutes autres Isles; & qui est si plentiuous de blez & des arbres, &
large de boys & de rivers & de veneisons & de oisiaus convenables, et
noble de mout de maneres bons chiens. Citees y ad mont belles et bien
assises, & belles guameries de terre amyable; close de mere & de douces
Ewes delitables: ceo est asavoir, de fluvies, de beaus undes, de clers
fountaynes & de douces, &c.’
* * * * *
The writer then applies himself to treat of London; as, the several
Charters, the Wards, and the Streets, Passages, and Places there,
Privileges of Maiors, &c.
To which I add the _Calendarium Cameræ_, London, which was also another
Book in the Chamber, of use to me also in my searches.”
During the eighteenth century, except for Strype, the archives appear
to have been unmolested. Early last century Sir Francis Palgrave made
many extracts from this treasury. More recently, M. Auguste Thierry
published certain treaties of commerce of the thirteenth to fifteenth
centuries, between the citizens of London and the merchants of Amiens.
In 1843 M. Jules Delpit spent some time at the Guildhall collecting
from copies of documents relating to the connections between France and
England. Since then the work of publishing and annotating these papers
has gone on with great diligence.
A list of the items which comprise the City archives is given by Riley:—
“In addition to the early Registers, or Letter-Books, from A to K
inclusive (the respective dates of which are given at the conclusion
of this volume), the Record-room at Guildhall contains the following
compilations:—_Journals_ and _Repertories_ of the Courts of Aldermen
and Common Council from A.D. 1417 down to the present time. _Liber de
Antiquis Legibus_, a Latin Chronicle of the City transactions from A.D.
1178 to 1274, the only one of the records hitherto published. _Liber
Horn_, a miscellaneous collection, date 1311, and compiled probably by
its original owner, Andrew Horn. _Liber Custumarum_, a compilation of
a similar nature, date about 1320, and put together probably under the
supervision of the same Andrew Horn. _Liber Albus._ _Liber Dunthorn_, a
compilation in Latin, Anglo-French, and English, prepared between A.D.
1461 and 1490. _Liber Legum_, a collection of laws from A.D. 1342 to
1590. _Liber Ordinationum de Itinere_, compiled _temp._ Edward I.: in
addition to which, there are the _Assisa Panis_, commencing in 1284;
_Liber Memorandorum_, date 1298, and several other manuscript volumes
of inferior note and value.
Among the books which are known to have formerly belonged to the
Corporation of London, but are now lost, are the following:—_Liber
Niger Major_, and _Liber Niger Minor_, both quoted in _Liber Albus_,
_Speculum_, _Recordatorium_, possibly identical with the _Liber Regum
Antiquorum_, also lost; _Magnus Liber de Chartis et Libertatibus
Civitatis_; _Liber Rubeus_, and _Liber de Heretochiis_, both mentioned
in the Letter-Books, according to M. Delpit, as formerly in existence.
It is not improbable that these volumes may have disappeared on
the disastrous occasion when, in the reign of Edward VI., the Lord
Protector Somerset borrowed three _cartloads_ of books from the Library
at Guildhall, none of which were ever returned.”—Riley’s Introduction
to _Liber Albus_.
Since this list was prepared, the Corporation have undertaken the
publication of Riley’s _Memorials of the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and
Fifteenth Centuries_; Sharpe’s _Calendar of Wills_; the _Calendar of
Letters_; Sharpe’s _London and the Kingdom_; Price’s _Descriptive
Account of the Guildhall_; Agas’s “Map of London”; Riley’s _Chronicles
of Old London_. In addition to these volumes, one must not omit
Arnold’s _Chronicle of Customs_, published in 1811; the publications
of the Camden Society, which include many documents invaluable to
the student of City history; other Chronicles translation has made
accessible, such as the “Dialogue de Scaccario,” published in full in
Stubbs’s _Select Charters_.
CHAPTER II
THE CHARTER OF HENRY THE SECOND
The Charter granted by Henry the Second, though apparently full,
contained certain omissions which are significant and important. Round
has arranged this Charter side by side with that of Henry the First,
dividing their contents into numbered clauses, italicising the points
of difference (_Geoffrey de Mandeville_, pp. 368-369).
HENRY THE FIRST HENRY THE SECOND
(1) Cives non placitabunt extra (1) Nullus eorum placitet extra
muros civitatis pro ullo placito. muros civitatis Londoniarum de
ullo placito _praeter placita de
tenuris exterioribus, exceptis
monetariis et ministris meis_.
(2) Sint quieti _de schot et de (2) Concessi etiam eis quietanciam
loth de Danegildo et_ de murdro, murdri, [_et_] _infra urbem et
et nullus eorum faciat bellum. Portsokna_, et quod nullus faciat
bellum.
(3) Et si quis civium de placitis (3) De placitis ad coronam
coronæ implacitatus fuerit, per [spectantibus] se possunt
sacramentum quod judicatum fuerit disrationare secundum antiquam
in civitate, se disrationet homo consuetudinem civitatis.
Londoniarum.
(4) Et infra muros civitatis nullus (4) Infra muros nemo capiat
hospitetur, neque de mea familia, hospitium per vim vel per
neque de alia, nisi alicui liberationem Marescalli.
hospitium liberetur.
(5) Et omnes homines Londoniarum (5) Omnes cives Londoniarum sint
sint quieti et liberi, et omnes res quieti de theloneo et lestagio per
eorum, et per totam Angliam et per totam Angliam et per portum maris.
portus maris, de thelonio _et
passagio_ et lestagio _et
omnibus aliis consuetudinibus_.
(6) Et ecclesiæ et barones et cives
teneant et habeant bene et in pace
socnas suas cum omnibus (This clause is wholly omitted).
consuetudinibus ita quod hospites
qui in soccis suis hospitantur
nulli dent consuetudines suas,
nisi illi cujus socca fuerit, vel
ministro suo quem ibi posuerit.
(7) Et homo Londoniarum non (7) Nullus de misericordia pecuniæ
judicetur in misericordia pecuniæ judicetur nisi secundum legem
nisi ad suam _were_, scilicet civitatis quam habuerunt tempore
ad c solidos, dico de placito Henrici regis avi mei.
quod ad pecuniam pertineat.
(8) Et amplius non sit miskenninga (8) In civitate in nullo placito
in hustenge, neque in folkesmote, sit miskenninga; et quod Hustengus
neque in aliis placitis infra semel tantum in hebdomada
civitatem; et husteng sedeat semel teneatur.
in hebdomada, videlicet die Lunae.
(9) Et terras suas _et wardemotum_ (9) Terras suas _et tenuras et
et debita civibus meis habere faciam vadimonia_ et debita omnia juste
_infra civitatem et extra_. habeant, _quicunque eis debeat_.
(10) Et de terris de quibus ad me (10) De terris suis et tenuris
clamaverint rectum eis tenebo lege _quæ infra urbem sunt_, rectum eis
civitatis. teneatur secundum legem civitatis;
et de omnibus debitis suis quae
accomodata fuerint apud Londonias,
et de vadimoniis ibidem factis,
placita [? sint] apud Londoniam.
(11) Et si quis thelonium vel (11) Et si quis _in tota Anglia_
consuetudinem a civibus Londoniarum theloneum et consuetudinem ab
ceperit, _cives_ Londoniarum capiant hominibus Londoniarum ceperit,
de burgo vel de villa ubi theloneum _postquam ipse a recto defecerit
vel consuetudo capta fuit, quantam Vicecomes_ Londoniarum namium inde
homo Londoniarum pro theloneo dedit, apud _Londonias_ capiat.
et proinde de damno caperit.
(12) Et omnes debitores qui civibus (12) Habeant fugationes suas,
debita debent eis reddant vel in ubicumque habuerunt tempore Regis
Londoniis se disrationent quod non Henrici avi mei.
debent. _Quod si reddere noluerint,
neque ad disrationandum venire,
tunc cives quibus debita sua debent
capiant intra civitatem namia sua,
vel de comitatu in quo manet qui
debitum debet._
(13) Et cives habeant fugationes (13) _Insuper etiam, ad
suas ad fugandum sicut melius et emendationem civitatis, eis
plenius habuerunt antecessores concessi quod sint quieti de
eorum, scilicet Chiltre et Brudtolle, et de Childewite, et de
Middlesex et Sureie. Yaresive, et de Scotale; ita quod
Vicecomes meus_ (sic)
_London[iarum] vel aliquis alius
ballivus Scotalla non faciat._
The text of the first is that of Stubbs’s _Select Charters_; that of
the second is taken from the transcript in the _Liber Custumarum_
(collated with the _Liber Rubeus_).
One very curious mistake was discovered by Round in the first. In
clause 9 the word _wardemotum_ is used. This, by comparison with
the corresponding clause in the second Henry’s Charter, should be
_vadimonia_: in other words, both Charters confirmed to the citizens
“the property mortgaged to them and the debts due to them.”
To consider the differences:—
(1) No citizens are to plead without the walls. The second Charter
adds “except in pleas for exterior tenures, my moneyers and servants
excepted.”
By the second clause the citizens are freed from Scot and Lot and
Danegeld and Murder. Henry the Second substitutes acquittance of murder
within the City and Portsoken.
(6) Clause 6 is omitted in the second Charter.
(9) Clause 9. I have already shown the error discovered by Round in the
word _wardemotum_.
(10) Here is a limitation, “quæ infra urbem sunt,” which are within the
City.
(11) The clause concerning debtors omitted in the second Charter.
(12) About taking toll or any other custom from the citizens: for the
“citizens” is substituted the Sheriff.
(13) Observe that Henry the Second does not speak of the Sheriff of
London, but of _my_ Sheriff.
The most important omission, however, in the second Charter is that
which gives the citizens the right to hold Middlesex on the _firma_ of
£300 a year, and the right to elect their own Justiciar and Sheriff.
CHAPTER III
THE COMMUNE
We are now in a position to proceed to the establishment of the
Commune. The stages of any important reform are, first, the right
understanding of the facts; then a tentative discussion of the facts;
then an animated discussion of the facts; next, an angry denial of
the facts; then a refusal to consider the question of reform at all;
finally, the unwilling acceptance of reform with gloomy prophecies
of disaster and ruin. One knows nothing about these preliminary
stages as regards the great Civic Revolution of 1191. But I am quite
sure that, just as it was with the Reform Bill of 1832, so it was
with the creation of a Mayor in 1191. There were no newspapers, no
pamphlets, and no means of united action except the Folk Mote at
Paul’s Cross—which would clearly be of no use on such a point—and the
casual meeting day by day of the merchants by the riverside. There
was no Royal Exchange; there were no Companies’ Halls for them to
meet in; we have no record of any meeting; but we may be sure that
the inconvenience of the situation was discussed whenever two or
three were gathered together. We may be equally sure that there were
Conservatives, those who loved the old days, and dreaded the power of a
central authority. Opinion as regards reform has always been divided,
and always will be divided; there are always those who would rather
endure the ills that exist than meet unknown ills which may be brought
upon them by change. I do not know how long the discussions continued
and the discontent was endured. On this subject history is dumb. One or
two points, however, are certain. The first is that all the great towns
of Western Europe were eager for the Commune; the next is the model
which they proposed to copy.
It must have been well known to our Kings throughout the twelfth
century that the creation of the Commune in the great trading cities of
Western Europe was not only ardently desired by the citizens, but had
been actually achieved by many. What they desired was a Corporation,
a municipality, self-government within their own walls. It is certain
that London looked with eyes of envy upon Rouen, a City with which it
was closely connected by ties of relationship, as well as those of
trade, because Rouen obtained her Commune fifteen years before London
obtained the mere shadow of one. It was, in fact, from Normandy that
the City derived her desire to possess a Commune. The connection
between London and Rouen was much closer than we are generally willing
to recognise. Communication was easy, the Channel could be crossed
whenever the wind was favourable, the Englishman was on a friendly
soil when he landed in Normandy, a country ruled by his own Prince.
The Normans found themselves also among a friendly people on the soil
of England. They came over in great numbers, especially to London. The
merchants of Rouen had their port at Dowgate from the days of Edward
the Confessor. Many of the leading London merchants came from Rouen and
Caen. Therefore, whatever went on in Rouen was known in London. Now, in
the year 1145, great and startling news arrived. It was heard that the
City of Rouen had obtained a Commune, that is to say, a municipality,
with a Mayor for a central authority, and powers of government over
the whole City. Further news came that the Commune was established in
other parts of France and in the Netherlands, and that everywhere the
cities were forming themselves into municipalities, breaking away from
the old traditions and organising themselves. This was not done without
considerable opposition. The rights of the Church, the rights of the
Barons, the rights of the King, were all invaded by the creation of the
Commune. It was, however, a great popular movement, irresistible. It
succeeded for a time, but in one city after another it fell to pieces.
In England it succeeded greatly, and it continued to extend and to
flourish. Meanwhile the merchants of London understood very well that,
in this respect, what suited the people of Rouen would suit them.
Indeed, the conditions were very similar in the two Cities.[1]
Then began a serious agitation—but not after the modern fashion—among
the London citizens in favour of the new civic organisation. Henry the
Second would have none of it. In his jealousy of any transfer of power
to the people, he allowed no guilds to be formed save with his consent;
at one blow he suppressed eighteen “Adulterine” guilds which had thus
been created. But he could not suppress the ardent desire of the people
for the Commune.
Had the successor of Henry been as wise a King and as clear-sighted
as his father, the desire of the City might have been staved off for
another generation. But Richard was not Henry. When he was gone upon
his crusade, the government was left in the hands of his Chancellor,
William Longchamp. And then follows one of those episodes in which the
history of London becomes actually the history of the whole country.
Longchamp had become unpopular with all classes. The barons felt the
power of his hand and resented it; the merchants found themselves
continually subject to extortionate fines, the clergy to exactions.
He held all the Royal Castles; he was attended by a guard of a
thousand horsemen; he affected the parade of royalty. In considering
this personage, it must be remembered that he had many enemies in all
ranks, and that his character has been chiefly drawn by his enemies.
It was, of course, a great point against him—and always hurled in his
teeth—that he was of humble origin; he was also, as a matter of course,
charged with every kind of immorality. His haughtiness, which might be
excused in his position of Viceroy, was undoubted; it was called by his
enemies insolence; and there could be no doubt as to the taxes which
he imposed. In the letter written by Hugh, Bishop of Coventry, after
Longchamp’s deposition, even ecclesiastical invective seems to have
done its very worst. The real reason of the deadly hatred is summed up
in the following:—
“To omit other matters, he and his revellers had so exhausted the
whole kingdom, that they did not leave a man his belt, a woman her
necklace, a nobleman his ring, or anything of value even to a Jew.
He had likewise so utterly emptied the King’s treasury, that in all
the coffers and bags therein, nothing but the keys could be met with,
after the lapse of these last two years.” (_Roger de Hoveden_, Riley’s
trans., vol. ii. p. 235.)
[Illustration: OBVERSE AND ORIGINAL REVERSE OF THE SEAL OF THE CITY OF
LONDON, SHOWING FIGURE OF ST. THOMAS À BECKET
From a wax cast in the Guildhall Museum.]
On the other hand, Peter of Blois replied to the gentle Bishop of
Coventry with a letter which must have awakened in the mind of that
prelate something of the ungovernable wrath which belonged to his time.
He says: “The Bishop of Ely [Longchamp], one beloved by God and men,
a man amiable, wise, generous, kind, and meek, bounteous and liberal
to the highest degree, had by the dispensations of the Divine favour,
and in accordance with the requirements of his own manners and merits,
been honoured with the administration of the State, and had thus gained
the supreme authority. With feelings of anger you beheld this, and
forthwith he became the object of your envy. Accordingly, your envy
conceived vexation and brought forth iniquity; whereas he, walking in
the simplicity of his mind, received you into the hallowed precincts of
his acquaintanceship, and with singleness of heart, and into the bonds
of friendship and strict alliance. His entire spirit reposed upon you,
and all your thoughts unto him were for evil.” (_Roger de Hoveden_,
Riley’s trans., vol. ii. p. 238.)
We have not to determine the guilt or the innocence of the Chancellor;
it is enough to learn that there were opposite views.
The Barons and Bishops were headed by John, Earl of Mortain,[2] brother
of the King.
It was notorious that of all those who went out to fight the Saracen,
few returned. Richard, in the Holy Land, was not sparing himself;
it was therefore quite likely that he would meet his death upon the
battlefield. Then, as the heir to the crown was a child, and as a man,
and not a child, was wanted on the throne, John had certainly every
reason to believe that his own accession would be welcomed. He prepared
the way, therefore, by joining the popular cause, and put himself at
the head of the malcontents.
And now, at last, the citizens saw their chance. They offered to use
the whole power of the City for John and the barons, but on conditions.
J. H. Round, in his _Origin of the Mayoralty of London_, p. 3, says:—
“It was at about the same time that the ‘Commune’ and its ‘Maire’
were triumphantly reaching Dijon in one direction, and Bordeaux in
another, that they took a northern flight and descended upon London.
Not for the first time in her history, the Crown’s difficulty was
London’s opportunity, and when in October, 1191, the administration
found itself paralysed by the conflict between the King’s brother
John, and the King’s representative, the famous Longchamp, London,
finding that she held the scales, promptly named the concession of
a ‘Commune’ as the price of her support. The chroniclers of the day
enable us to picture to ourselves the scene, as the excited citizens
who had poured forth overnight, with lanterns and torches, to welcome
John to the capital, streamed together on the morning, of the eventful
8th October, at the well-known summons of the great bell, swinging
out from its campanile in St. Paul’s Churchyard. There they heard
John take the oath to the ‘Commune,’ like a French King or Lord, and
then London for the first time had a municipality of her own. What
the English and territorial organisation could never have brought
about, the foreign Commune, with its commercial basis, could and did
accomplish.
And as London alone had her ‘Commune,’ so London alone had her Mayor.
The ‘Maire’ was unquestionably imported with the ‘Commune,’ although
it is not till the spring of 1193 that the Mayor of London is first
mentioned. But already in 1194 we find a citizen accused of boasting
that ‘come what may the Londoners shall never have any King but their
Mayor.’”
“Not for the first time.” Remember that in 1066, after the battle of
Hastings, London only admitted William as King on conditions. London
elected Henry the First King on conditions. London made Stephen King
on conditions. London received the Empress on conditions; a week later
the Queen also on conditions; and now, once more, London saw its
chance—such a chance as might never occur again—for getting what it
wanted—on conditions.
Let us, however, enter more fully into the details of this victory, and
into the causes which led to concession.
Longchamp gave the barons an opening by his attempted exclusion of
Geoffrey, Archbishop of York (natural brother of the King), from the
kingdom, and his forcible seizure of the Archbishop from the very
horns of the Altar. Geoffrey complained to John, who gave orders that
the Chancellor should stand his trial for the injury he had done to
the Archbishop. Remembering the position of Longchamp, as the actual
representative of the King, this summons was in the nature of an
ultimatum. As regards the City, Longchamp had alienated many of the
citizens by his exactions and by the great works which he carried on at
the Tower, a point on which the citizens were always extremely jealous.
[Illustration: OLD MAYORALTY SEAL, 13TH CENTURY
From a wax cast in Guildhall Museum.]
A day was named for the hearing of the case. The Court, or the Council,
sat at Reading. There were present: John, Earl of Mortain; the
Archbishop of York as plaintiff; the Archbishop of Rouen—his appearance
is most significant, with the bishops and the principal barons of the
realm.
But no Chancellor appeared, nor did any message or reply come from him.
The Court being broken up, the barons marched from Reading to Windsor,
while the Chancellor retired from Windsor to the Tower of London.
On the day following, the barons marched from Windsor into London. By
this statement we may clearly understand that everything had already
been arranged with the citizens, otherwise the gates would have been
shut. The barons, with their following, were admitted into the City;
they held another meeting at the Chapter House of St. Paul’s; and here
John, the Archbishops of York and Rouen, and nearly all the bishops
and barons of the realm, received the principal citizens, and solemnly
granted to the City of London its long-sought Commune, and swore to
maintain it firmly so long as it should please the King.
The words of Roger of Hoveden are quite clear; it is extraordinary that
there could be any doubt about what was done:
“On the same day, also, the Earl of Mortaigne, the Archbishop of
Rouen, and the other justiciaries of the King, granted to the citizens
of London the privilege of their commonalty; and, during the same
year, the Earl of Mortaigne, the Archbishop of Rouen, and the other
justiciaries of the King, made oath that they would solemnly and
inviolably observe the said privilege, so long as the same should
please their lord the King. The citizens of London also made oath that
they would faithfully serve their lord King Richard, and his heirs,
and would, if he should die without issue, receive Earl John, the
brother of King Richard, as their King and Lord.” (_Roger de Hoveden_,
Riley’s trans., vol. ii. p. 230.)
This done, they proceeded without any trouble to depose the Chancellor,
who fled, and, after many adventures, got across to Normandy in safety.
Observe the very great importance attached to this step. It was the
condition in return for which London joined the barons in getting rid
of a rapacious Viceroy; the concession was not lightly, but solemnly,
granted, as a measure of the greatest weight, in presence of the chief
persons of the kingdom; all present set their hands to the Act; all
present swore to maintain it.
One of the chroniclers, Richard of Devizes, a very strong Conservative,
shows us what was thought of the step by his party:
“On that very day,” he says, “was granted and instituted the Commune
of the Londoners, and the magnates of the whole realm, even the
Bishops of the province itself, were compelled to swear to it. London
learned now for the first time, in obtaining the Commune, that the
realm had no King, for neither Richard nor his father Henry would ever
have allowed this to be done, even for a million marks of silver. How
great those evils are which spring from a Commune may be understood
from the common saying that it puffs up the people and it terrifies
the King.”
Ralph de Diceto says more succinctly, “All the before-mentioned
_magnates_ [_i.e._ John, the archbishop, the bishops, earls, and
barons] swore [that they would maintain] the _Commune_ of London.” It
is he who tells us what the others do not tell us, that this parliament
was holden in the Chapter House of Saint Paul, London.
Giraldus Cambrensis says:—
“In crastino vero convocatis in unum civibus, communione, vel ut Latine
minus vulgariter magis loquamur, commune seu communia eis concessa et
communiter jurata.”
It is therefore abundantly plain that the citizens desired, and
obtained from John, the concession of the Commune.
Another chronicler informs us that the Commune was granted to the whole
body of citizens gathered together. This means that it was announced
at a Folk Mote specially summoned at Paul’s Cross. I cannot but think
that the importance of the concession called for the assemblage of the
whole people. Mr. Round must be right in his picture. After the meeting
in the Chapter House, the Great Bell of St. Paul’s was rung; the people
flocked together; the bishop stood up at Paul’s Cross and told them the
great news: that they had at last won their community; that for the
first time they were one City; that they had for the first time their
leader and their speaker.
The City got its Commune. The first Mayor, Henry FitzAylwin, or Henry
of London Stone, was elected. Two years afterwards, he is spoken of as
the Mayor of London. He held the office for five-and-twenty years: it
was twenty-four years after his election that he was recognised by the
King. John’s recognition, when he was no more than Earl of Mortain,
heir to the Crown, was not official. As we have heard already, Richard
never recognised either the Commune or the Mayor.
Mr. H. C. Coote, in a paper published by the London and Middlesex
Archæological Society, argues that so great a change as that from the
former to the later constitution demanded a Charter; that therefore
this Charter must have been granted; and that it must have been lost.
It is sufficient to note the fact that there is no such Charter.
Considering the circumstances, it does not seem as if a Charter could
have been granted. The Commune was conferred so long as it should
please the King. It did not please the King, who never recognised the
Commune. Therefore, one would infer there was no Charter.
In 1215 the citizens obtained from John their right to elect their own
Mayor.
As for the meaning of the Commune, Stubbs says:—
“The establishment of the ‘Communa’ of the citizens of London which
is recorded by the historians to have been specially confirmed by the
Barons and Justiciar on the occasion of Longchamp’s deposition from
the Justiciarship is a matter of some difficulty as the word ‘Communa’
is not found in English town-charters, and no formal record of the act
of confirmation is now preserved. Interpreted, however, by foreign
usage and by the later meaning of the word ‘Communitas’ it must be
understood to signify a corporate identity of the municipality which
it may have claimed before and which may even have been occasionally
recognised but was now firmly established: a sort of consolidation
into a single organised body of the variety of franchises, guilds, and
other departments of local jurisdiction. It was probably connected
with, and perhaps implied by, the nomination of a _Mayor_ who now
appears for the first time. It cannot, however, be defined with
certainty.” (Stubbs’s _Select Charters_.)
Now Round[3] points out that the words “concessa est communæ
Londinensium,” agree exactly with the granting of the French Communes.
The same words were used for the Communes of Senlis, of Compiègne,
of Abbeville, and of Poitiers. The Commune again, in France, did not
necessarily imply the election of a Mayor. At Beauvais and Compiègne at
first there was no Mayor.
Round next shows, which is very remarkable, that the long struggle of
the citizens to hold the City and County at the _firma_ of £300, which
the Crown persistently strove to raise to £500 and more, was terminated
in 1191, the year when the Commune was granted, by a return to the old
sum of £300. This is a very important fact. Entries of the years 1192
and 1197 show that this yearly sum was maintained at the lower figure.
Three points, therefore, are certain:—
1. A Commune was granted to London in 1191.
2. The Firma of City and County was simultaneously lowered from over
£500 to the old sum of £300.
3. The Mayor of London first appears in 1193.
It is at this point that an almost contemporary document, discovered by
Mr. Round, in the British Museum, which is nothing less than the oath
of the Commune, throws a flood of light on the situation.
“_Sacramentum commune tempore regis Ricardi quando detentus erat
Alemaniam (sic)._
Quod fidem portabunt domino regi Ricardo de vita sua et de membris
et de terreno honore suo contra omnes homines et feminas qui vivere
possunt aut mori et quod pacem suam servabunt et adjuvabunt servare,
et quod communam tenebunt et obedientes erunt maiori civitatis
Lond[onie] et skivin[is] ejusdem commune in fide regis et quod
sequentur et tenebunt considerationem maioris et skivinorum et aliorum
proborum hominum qui cum illis erunt salvo honore dei et sancte
ecclesie et fide domini regis Ricardi et salvis per omnia libertatibus
civitatis Lond[onie]. Et quod pro mercede nec pro parentela nec pro
aliqua re omittent quin jus in omnibus rebus p[ro]sequentur et teneant
pro posse suo et scientia et quod ipsi communiter in fide domini regis
Ricardi sustinebunt bonum et malum et ad vitam et ad mortem. Et si
quis presumeret pacem domini regis et regni perturbare ipsi consilio
domine et domini Rothomagensis et aliorum justiciarum domini regis
juvabunt fideles domini regis et illos qui pacem servare volunt pro
posse suo et pro scientia sua salvis semper in omnibus libertatibus
Lond[onie].” (Round, p. 235.)
Compare this oath with that of a freeman of the present day:—
“I solemnly declare that I will be good and true to our Sovereign
Lord King Edward, that I will be obedient to the Mayor of this City,
that I will maintain the franchises and customs thereof, and will
keep this City harmless in that which in me is; that I will also keep
the King’s peace in my own person, that I will know no gatherings
nor conspiracies made against the King’s peace, but I will warn the
Mayor thereof or hinder it to my power; and that all these points and
articles I will well and truly keep according to the laws and customs
of this City to my power.”
Again, to quote from Round:—
“For the first time we learn that the government of the City was then
in the hands of a Mayor and _échevins_ (_skevini_). Of these latter
officers no one, hitherto, had even suspected the existence. Dr.
Gross, indeed, the chief specialist on English municipal institutions,
appears to consider these officers a purely continental institution.
But in this document the Mayor and _échevins_ do not exhaust the
governing body. Of Aldermen, indeed, we hear nothing; but we read of
‘alii probi homines’ as associated with the Mayor and _échevins_. For
these we may turn to another document, fortunately preserved in this
volume, which shows us a body of ‘twenty-four’ connected with the
government of London some twelve years later (1205-6).
_Sacramentum xxiiij^{or} factum anno regni regis Johannis vij^o._
Quod legaliter intendent ad consulendum secundum suam consuetudinem
juri domini regis quod ad illos spectat in civitate Lond[onie] salva
libertate civitatis et quod de nullo homine qui in placito sit ad
civitatem spectante aliquod premium ad suam conscientiam reciperent.
Et si aliquis illorum donum aut promissum dum in placitum fatiat illud
nunquam recipient, neque aliquis per ipsos vel pro ipsis. Et quod illi
nullum modum premii accipient, nec aliquis per ipsos vel pro ipsis,
pro injuria allevanda vel pro jure sternendo. Et concessum est inter
ipsos quod si aliquis inde attinctus vel convictus fuerit, libertatem
civitatis et eorum societatem amittet.” (Round, pp. 237-238.)
“Of a body of twenty-_four_ councillors, nothing has hitherto been
known. To a body of twenty-_five_ there is this one reference (_Liber
de Antiq. Leg._ Camden Soc. p. 2):
Hoc anno fuerunt xxv electi de discretioribus civitatis, et jurati pro
consulendo civitatem una cum Maiore.
The year is Mich. 1200-Mich. 1201; but the authority is not
first-rate. Standing alone as it does, the passage has been much
discussed. The latest exposition is that of Dr. Sharpe, Records Clerk
to the City Corporation (_London and the Kingdom_, i. 72):
Soon after John’s accession we find what appears to be the first
mention of a court of Aldermen as a deliberate body. In the year 1200,
writes Thedmar (himself an Alderman), ‘were chosen five-and-twenty of
the more discreet men of the City and sworn to take counsel on behalf
of the City, together with the Mayor. Just as, in the constitution of
the realm, the House of Lords can claim a greater antiquity than the
House of Commons, so in the City—described by Lord Coke as _epitome
totius regni_—the establishment of a Court of Aldermen preceded that
of a Common Council.’”
But they could not have been Aldermen of the wards, simply because the
number do not agree.
To find out who they were, we must turn to the foreign evidence. At
Rouen the advisers of the Mayor were a body of twenty-four annually
elected.
This oath on election was as follows. It will be seen how closely it
resembles that of the English Commune—
“(II). De centum vero paribus eligentur viginti quatuor, assensu
centum parium, qui singulis annis removebuntur: quorum duodecim
eschevini vocabuntur, et alii duodecim consultores. Isti viginti
quatuor, in principio sui anni, jurabunt se servaturos jura sancte
ecclesie et fidelitatem domini regis atque justiciam quod et ipse
recte judicabunt secundum suam conscienciam, etc.
LIV. Iterum, major et eschevini et pares, in principio sui
eschevinatus, jurabunt eque judicare, nec pro inimicitia nec pro
amicitia injuste judicabunt. Iterum, jurabunt se nullos denarios nec
premia capturos, quod et eque judicabunt secundum suam conscienciam.
LV. Si aliquis juratorum possit comperi accepisse premium pro aliqua
questione de qua aliquis trahatur in eschevinagio, domus ejus ...
prosternatur, nec amplius ille qui super hoc deliraverit, nec ipse,
nec heres ejus dominatum in communia habebit.
The three salient features in common are (1) the oath to administer
justice fairly; (2) the special provisions against bribery; (3) the
expulsion of any member of the body convicted of receiving a bribe.
If we had only ‘the oath of the Commune,’ we might have remained
in doubt as to the nature of the administrative body; but we can
now assert, on continental analogy, that its twenty-four members
comprised twelve ‘skevini’ and an equal number of councillors. We can
also assert that it administered justice, even though this has been
unsuspected, and may, indeed, at first arouse question.” (Round, p.
240.)
We conclude, therefore, from continental analogy, that the twenty-four
of London comprised twelve “skevini” and an equal number of
Councillors. What became of this Council?
Round is of opinion, in which most will agree, that this Council
was the germ of the Common Council, and he points out that the oath
of a member of the Common Council, like that of the ancient Council
of twenty-four, still binds him—(1) not to be influenced by private
favour; (2) not to leave the Council without the Mayor’s permission;
(3) to keep the proceedings secret.
Now the oath of an Alderman (_Liber Albus_, Riley’s translation,
p. 267) is quite different. It is the oath of a Magistrate and
superintendent of a ward—
“You shall swear, that well and lawfully you shall serve our lord the
King in the City of London, in the office of Alderman in the Ward
of N, wherein you are chosen Alderman, and shall lawfully treat and
inform the people of the same Ward of such things as unto them pertain
to do, for keeping the City, and for maintaining the peace within the
City; and that the laws, usages, and franchises of the said City you
shall keep and maintain, within town and without, according to your
wit and power. And that attentive you shall be to save and maintain
the rights of orphans, according to the laws and usages of the said
City. And that ready you shall be, and readily shall come, at the
summons and warning of the Mayor and ministers of the said City, for
the time being, to speed the Assizes, Pleas, and judgments of the
Hustings, and other needs of the said City, if you be not hindered
by the needs of our lord the King, or by other reasonable cause; and
that good lawful counsel you shall give for such things as touch the
common profit in the same City. And that you shall sell no manner of
victuals by retail; that is to say, bread, ale, wine, fish, or flesh,
by you, your apprentices, hired persons, servants, or by any other;
nor profit shall you take of any such manner of victuals sold during
your office. And that well and lawfully you shall (behave) yourself
in the said office, and in other things touching the City.—So God you
help, and the saints.”[4]
Again, for English evidence. The City of Winchester shows also the
existence of a Council of twenty-four, which continued until 1835:
“Il iert en la vile mere eleu par commun assentement des vint et
quatre jures et de la commune ... le quel mere soit remuable de an en
an.... Derechef en la cite deinent estre vint et quatre jurez esluz
des plus prudeshommes e des plus sages de la ville e leaument eider e
conseiller le avandit mere a franchise sauver et sustener.” (Round, p.
242.)
“There shall be in the City a Mayor elected by common consent of
the twenty-four ‘Jurats’ and the Commune.... The which Mayor is to
be removeable from year to year. Further, in the City there must be
twenty-four ‘Jurats’ elected from the most notable and the wisest of
the City, both loyally to aid and to counsel the aforesaid Mayor to
protect and to maintain the franchise.”
At Winchester the twenty-four retained their distinct position, and it
was not till the sixteenth century that the Aldermen were interposed
between the Mayor and the Council.
Thus did London get the recognition of its Commune—its community,—and
with it the Mayor. There was certainly reason for the suspicion
and hostility of the old-fashioned Conservatives towards the new
constitution. Some of the citizens, we are told, in the first exuberant
joy over their newly-acquired liberties thought that henceforth there
would be no need of a King at all. They pictured to themselves a
sovereign State like that of Genoa, Pisa, or Venice, in which the City
should be independent and separate from the rest of the country. I dare
say there were such dreamers. Three years later, in 1194, we hear of
citizens who boasted that “come what may, the Londoners shall never
have any King but their Mayor.” Fortunately, the Mayor himself observed
wiser counsels.
And now we may ask what it was that the City got with its new form
of government. The Mayor took over the whole control of trade, which
had been in the hands of the mysterious Guild Merchant; but with this
vast difference, that he was provided with powers to enforce his
ordinances. He took over, in addition, the administration of justice,
the maintenance of order in the City, the subjection of all the various
Courts and Ward Motes under one Central Court, with its Magistrates,
its Bailiffs, its Officers, and its Servants. London as a corporate
body actually began in 1191. The Sheriffs lost a great part of their
importance; the Aldermen became, but not immediately, Magistrates of
the City and not of the Wards only; the citizens themselves began to
elect their representatives to rule the City; the regulations of the
various crafts passed under the licensing authority of a Judge and
his Assessors, who enforced their commands by penalties. In a word,
the Commune abolished the ancient treatment of the City as an
aggregate of private properties, each of which had its own Lord of the
Manor, or Alderman, and substituted one great City, presided over by
a representative possessed of power and authority, and backed by the
strong arm of the law.
[Illustration: KING JOHN SIGNING MAGNA CHARTA
After the painting by Ernest Normand in the Royal Exchange, London. By
permission of the Artist.]
The step, in fact, made the future development of London possible
and natural. Wherever there is self-government there is the power of
adjusting laws and customs to meet changed conditions. Where there is
no self-government there is no such power. A long succession of the
wisest and most benevolent Kings would never have done for London what
London was thus enabled to do for herself, because, to use the familiar
illustration, it is only the foot which knows where the shoe pinches.
We must not claim for the wisdom of our ancestors that London
advanced at once, and by a single step, to the full recognition of
the possibilities before her. I admit that there were many failures;
we know that there were jealousies and animosities; that there were
times when the Mayor was unable to cope with the difficulties of
the situation—for example, when Edward the First suppressed the
Mayoralty altogether, and for eleven years ruled the City strongly and
wisely,—but we can claim for the City that there was continuous and
steady advance in the direction of orderly and just administration,
and that the unity of the City, thus recognised and conceded, became a
most powerful factor in the extension and expansion of the City and its
trade.
To return to the changes made possible. The chief officer of the City
was called a Mayor, after French custom; the Mayor was not appointed
by the King; he was elected by the citizens from their own body; his
powers were at first indefinite and uncertain; thus, the first act of
Edward the Third, a hundred years later, was to make the Mayor one of
the Judges of Oyer and Terminer for the trials of criminals in Newgate;
the citizens’ right of electing the Mayor was always grudgingly
conceded and continually violated. I suppose, next, that the practice
of electing the Aldermen, which came in gradually, was accelerated by
the natural desire of the citizens to elect all their officers. Another
cause was undoubtedly the fact that the manors, or wards, of the City
did not continue in the hands of the original families. The holders
parted with their property; perhaps they retained certain manorial
rights, which were afterwards bought out. The wards in which this
happened began to elect their Aldermen; by the year 1290 there were
only four wards still named after the Lords of the Manor. And it seems
reasonable that, as soon as the City had a recognised head and chief
under the King, he would be considered first, so that the Bishop’s
Aldermanry naturally fell into abeyance. Certainly we find no more
Charters addressed to the Bishop. The first Mayor remained Mayor for
twenty-five years; that is to say, for life. It is natural to suppose
that he was at first put forward on occasion as the City’s spokesman,
as well as its chief officer. It is not absolutely certain that the
Mayor was first appointed in 1191, when John granted the “Commune.” In
some French towns the Mayor, as we have seen, came after the Commune,
but he is mentioned in 1193. In 1194 Richard’s Charter makes no mention
of the Mayor; he existed, certainly, but he was not yet acknowledged.
In 1215—May 8th—John conceded the citizens the privilege of electing
their Mayor.
This concession to London was followed by the same concession to other
cities and towns of England. The Commune or municipality of London
became the model for all other municipalities granted to other towns.
It is also the model for all municipalities created wherever our race
settles itself, and wherever an English-speaking town is founded.
This fact makes the history we have just considered of the most vital
interest and importance to every citizen or burgess in whatever town is
governed by Mayor, Aldermen, and the Court of Common Council.
I cannot do better than sum up these notes on the changes effected by
the Commune with another quotation from Dean Stubbs:—
“The Communa of London, and of those other English towns which
in the twelfth century aimed at such a constitution, was the old
English guild in a new French garb; it was the ancient association,
but directed to the attainment of municipal rather than mercantile
privileges; like the French communa, it was united and sustained by
the oaths of its members and of those whom it could compel to support
it. The mayor and the jurati, the mayor and jurats, were the framework
of the communa, as the aldermen and brethren constituted the guild,
and the reeve and good-men the magistracy of the township. And the
system which resulted from the combination of these elements, the
history of which lies outside our present period and scope, testifies
to their existence in a continued life of their own. London, and the
municipal system generally, has in the mayor a relic of the communal
idea, in the alderman the representative of the guild, and in the
councillors of the wards, the successors to the rights of the most
ancient township system. The jurati of the Commune, the brethren of
the guild, the reeve of the ward, have either disappeared altogether,
or taken forms in which they can scarcely be identified.”
We have spoken of the first Mayor of London, and what we know about him
has been summed up by Round for the _Dictionary of National Biography_.
We do not know his parentage. It has been conjectured that he was the
grandson of Leofstan, Portreeve of London before the Conquest. But
there were three or four Leofstans. It is suggested by Stubbs that he
was descended from Ailwin Child, who founded or endowed Bermondsey
Abbey in 1082. It is also suggested that he was an hereditary Baron
of London. In the “Pipe Roll” of 1165, a Henry FitzAylwin, Fitz
Leofstan, with Alan his brother, pay for succeeding to land in Essex or
Hertfordshire. Now FitzAylwin the Mayor did hold land in Hertfordshire
by tenure of serjeantry. The name appears in four documents as Henry
Fitz Ailwin, or Æthelwine, before he was Mayor, and in many documents
after he was Mayor. In the former name the latest date is 30th November
1191, and under the latter the first is April 1193. It would therefore
seem as if the Mayoralty was not established at first on the concession
of the grant. It may well be that it took time for the citizens to
assume their full organisation. We may fairly assume that his office,
if not his election, dates from the day of that concession.
FitzAylwin was one of the Treasurers for the King’s ransom in 1194.
He was also called Henry of London Stone, because his house stood on
the north side of Candlewick Street, near St. Swithin’s Church, over
against London Stone. He presided over a meeting of citizens on 24th
July 1212, and died a few weeks later. He left children from whom
many persons can still trace descent. Among them, as the two living
representatives of the first Mayor, are, I believe, Lady Beaumont and
the Earl of Abingdon. Fifty years ago a learned antiquary, Stapleton,
drew up a list of all the descendants of Henry FitzAylwin.
King Richard took no hostile proceedings against the Mayoralty. He
never recognised it; but he never tried to abolish it, and as the
enemies of the Commune observed that nothing disloyal to the King,
nothing dangerous to the Church, was set up in the City, they learned
to regard the institution without disfavour or suspicion, so that when
the Mayoralty was at last recognised by King John, there was no longer
any hostility, or even any misgiving. The old order had passed, giving
way to the new. How necessary this new order was; how it fitted in
with the old order, so that there was revolution without dislocation,
is proved by its adoption in all our towns and cities, by its long
continuance, and by its present vitality.
CHAPTER IV
THE WARDS
The large area included by the Roman Wall was parcelled out, after
the Saxon occupation, into manors, socs, or estates, held by private
persons. Some of them passed into the possession of the Church; some
into possession of the City; some changed hands. That these manors
included the most densely populated parts of the City, or Thames
Street, and the streets north of that main artery, proves that the
first allotment took place very early in the Saxon occupation, when
the City was still deserted; this fact, indeed, affords another proof
of that desertion, because we cannot believe that a populous quarter,
covered with warehouses and merchants’ residences, should have been
assigned to one man or to a dozen men. The value of the manor,
comprising gardens lying among ruined foundations, shut off from the
river and its fish by a high and thick stone wall, could have been no
more than that of a manor lying beside the north wall, on which corn
was growing and orchards were planted. Just as the Bedford Estate in
London began with the fields of Bloomsbury; just as the Westminster
Estate began with the marshes round Thorney Island, so the original
manors of London, at first gardens and wastes, became built over or
sold for building purposes. What, then, were manorial rights? Let us
read the instructions of Archdeacon Hall on this point. He says:—
“Manorial property was a possession differing in many respects
from what is now called landed estate. It was not a breadth of
land, which the lord might cultivate or not as he pleased, suffer
it to be inhabited, or reduce it to solitude and waste; but it was
a dominion or empire, within which the lord was the superior over
subjects of different ranks, his power over them not being absolute,
but limited by law and custom. The lord of a manor, who had received
by grant from the crown, saca and soca, tol and team, was not merely
a proprietor, but a prince; and his courts were not only courts of
law, but frequently of criminal justice. The demesne, the assised,
and the waste lands were his; but the usufruct of the assised land
belonged, on conditions, to the tenants, and the waste lands were not
so entirely his, that he could exclude the tenants from the use of
them. It was this double capacity, in which the lord stood, to his
tenants, as the arbiter of their rights, as well as the owner of the
land, which rendered it necessary to the due discharge of the duty
of his station, that the lord of a manor should be such a person as
Fleta describes: Truthful in his words, faithful in his actions, a
lover of justice and of God, a hater of fraud and wrong, since it
most concerns him not to act with violence, or according to his own
will, but to follow advice, not being guided by some young hanger-on,
some jester or flatterer, but by the opinion of persons learned in
the law, men faithful and honest, and of much experience. Manors were
petty royalties; the court and household of the lord resembling in
some degree that of the King. In Fleta an account is given of the
officers of the royal household, the Senescallus Hospitii Regis, who
held his court in the palace; the Marescallus, the Camerarius, the
Clericus panetarii; but in the latter part of the book, which treats
of the management of manors, we find the lord of the manor attended by
the Senescallus, who held his courts, by the Marescallus, who had the
charge of his stud, and by the Coquus, who rendered an account of the
daily expenditure to the Senescallus.”
[Illustration: ALDGATE HOUSE, BETHNAL GREEN
Drawn by Schnebbelie and engraved by Warren for Dr. Hughson’s
_Description of London_.]
Some of these manors belonged to the Bishop or to a Church or to
a religious foundation, but the rights and the government and the
management of all were alike. Again to quote Archdeacon Hall:—
“Manors, whether royal and baronial, or episcopal and ecclesiastical,
were to their owners sources of wealth, derived from two distinct
sources—the exercise of a legal jurisdiction and the rent of
cultivation of land. The Ecclesiastical Manors differed in no respect
from those which were in lay hands. They were the sources of income,
not the field of spiritual labour. They contributed to the support
of the Bishop or of the Chapter, and of the religious household of
the Cathedral, by profits and revenues no way different from those
derived by the Sovereign and the Lords from other Manors. It is
remarkable that neither the Exchequer Domesday, nor the Domesday of
St. Paul’s contains any evidence, that the Ecclesiastical Manors had
any superior religious privileges, or were the centres from which
religious knowledge was diffused to the neighbourhood. The Manors of
the religious houses were in reality secular possessions; and their
history, as shown in the Domesday of St. Paul’s, is valuable as
illustrating the social, rather than the religious, condition of the
time.”
It must be noted, however, that none of the City manors were royal;
nor did any of their manors at any time belong to any noble great or
small. The nobles had their town houses, many of them large and stately
palaces covering a broad area, but they were never Lords of any London
Manor. And the Church property in the City included, after a time, only
the site of the various religious foundations and the house property
which they happened to possess. The Ward of Portsoken, of which mention
has already been made, is the only exception to this rule.
The manors, then, became the wards of the City.
The earliest list of the wards is contained in a document found among
the archives of St. Paul’s, entitled: “The measurements of the land of
St. Paul’s within the City of London.” The date is early in the twelfth
century.
The list is not, unfortunately, complete; nor can all the wards be
identified. But it is most valuable for what it does contain. A
facsimile is published in J. E. Price’s _Guildhall_. Thus, the first
ward is “Warda Episcopi,” the Bishop’s Ward, Cornhill. Then we have
_Warda Haco_, _i.e._ of St. Nicholas of Acon, in Lombard Street; _Warda
Alwold_ (Cripplegate); _Warda Fori_—of the Market-place—Chepe; _Warda
Ralph, son of Algod_; _Warda Osbert Dringepinne_; _Warda Hugh, son of
Ulgar_; _Warda Brocesgange_; _Warda Liured_; _Warda Reimund_; _Warda
Herbert_; _Warda Edward, son of Wizel_; _Warda Sperling_; _Warda
Brichmar the Moneyer_; _Warda Brichmar the Cottager_; _Warda Godwin,
son of Esgar_; _Warda Alegate_; _Warda Rolf, son of Liviva_; _Warda
Algar Manningestepsunne_; _Warda Edward Parole_.[5]
There are twenty wards in all. It will be observed that they are all
named after single persons except the Ward of the Market Place and the
Ward of Alegate. These single persons were the proprietors, the barons,
the owners of the land; the wards were the private manors into which
the City was divided. (See Appendix I.)
It is impossible to say how many wards there were in the whole City.
The owners were barons of right, a rank which afterwards descended to
their successors, the elected Aldermen. The first governing body of
London consisted of the owners of these estates, to whom were added the
more important merchants. In the changes and chances of fortune, the
estates changed hands; families died out and were replaced; we find,
in the fourteenth century, for instance, that all the old families,
whose names we know, had by that time disappeared, left the City, or
become merged in the general population. But the manors themselves
seem to have remained for the most part unbroken. It is difficult even
at the present day to cut up a manor. The Lord of the Manor, called
the Alderman, formed part of the ruling body by virtue of possession.
In other words, the government of London, despite the survival of the
Folk Mote, was a territorial aristocracy. In the _Liber Albus_ (p. 30),
Carpenter calls attention to the fact that although in his day—the
beginning of the fifteenth century—the wards were known by their own
names, they had formerly borne the names of their Aldermen. Thus, he
says that the Ward of Candelwyk Street was formerly the Ward of Thomas
Basyng; the Ward of Castle Baynard was the Ward of Simon Hadestok;
Tower Ward was the Ward of Henry le Frowyk; Vintry Ward was the Ward of
Henry le Covyntre; Farringdon Ward Without was the Ward of Anketill de
Auvern. So also, as W. J. Loftie points out, the Ward of the Bridge was
at one time that of John Horn; the Cordwainers’ Ward was that of Henry
le Waleys; Langbourne Ward that of Nicolas de Winton; Aldgate that of
John of Northampton; Walbrook of John Adrian; Broad Street of William
Bukerel; Aldersgate of Wolman de Essex; Bread Street of William de
Denham. Not one of these names can be found in the list just quoted.
By the time of Carpenter, the wards were clearly defined. Up to the
reign of Edward the First their boundaries were unsettled.
The Ward Mote has been held from time immemorial, according to Stow.
That is to say, whenever a manor became settled and populated, it was
the interest of the Alderman to have a court of Assistants who could
act as his Police, his Constables, his Detectives.
At what period the Aldermen ceased to be hereditary and were elected by
the citizens, I know not. The election of Aldermen is not contemplated
in the Charters of Henry the First, Henry the Second, Richard the
First, or John. In the second Charter of Henry the Third, the Barons
(_i.e._ Aldermen) of the City are appointed to elect the Mayor. In the
Charter of Edward the Second it is provided that the Aldermen shall be
“removable yearly and be removed on the day of St. Gregory (the 12th of
March) and in the year following shall not be re-elected, but others
shall be elected in their stead.” (_Liber Albus._)
In the year 1354 the old order was restored, and the Aldermen remained
in office for life.
The following is a list of the twenty-four wards into which London was
divided before the end of the thirteenth century, with the names of the
respective Aldermen:—
Warda Fori Alderman. Stephen Aswy.
„ Ludgate and Newgate „ William de Farndon.
„ Castle Baynard „ Richard Aswy.
„ Aldersgate „ William le Mazener.
„ Bredstrete „ Ducan de Botevile.
„ Quenehythe „ Simon de Hadestucke.
„ Vintry „ John de Gisors.
„ Dougate „ Gregory de Rockesley.
„ Walbrook „ Thomas Box.
„ Coleman Street „ John Fitz Peter.
„ Bassishaw „ Radulpus le Blound.
„ Cripplegate „ Henry Frowick.
„ Candlewyk Street „ Robert de Basing.
„ Langeford „ Nicholas de Winton.
„ Cordewene Street „ Henry le Waleys.
„ Cornhill „ Martin Box.
„ Lime Street „ Robert de Rockesley.
„ Bishopsgate „ Philip le Taylour.
„ Alegate „ John de Northampton.
„ Tower „ William de Hadestock.
„ Billingsgate „ Wolman de Essex.
„ Bridge „ Joseph de Achatur.
„ Lodyngebery „ Robert de Arras.
„ Portsoken „ Trinity.
In this list we observe that Cheap Ward is still called Ward Fori;
Langbourne Ward appears as Langeford; Broad Street Ward is Lodyngebery;
Farringdon is Ludgate and Newgate Ward; Aldgate is Alegate. Forty years
later there is found another list of wards in which the modern names
appear with the exception of Alegate which is written Algate. The names
of the wards are in four cases derived from the trades carried on in
them: in four cases from the chief families in them: in the rest from
buildings or monuments belonging to them. The names of the Aldermen
show sixteen belonging to the old ruling families: seven belonging to
new families or to trades, and one, the Prior of Holy Trinity, as an
official Alderman.
The date of this list of wards and Aldermen is probably somewhere
about 1290, nearly two hundred years after the first list. We have,
then, the old City families still represented among the Aldermen. Were
they elected? It is impossible to say how long the hereditary system
was maintained, and when it was replaced by the elective system. The
revolution was a peaceful and bloodless one, since there is no record
of it. William Farringdon, who bought his ward, and his son Nicholas,
were successive Aldermen of the ward for no less than eighty-two years.
The change of the names in the wards seems to have been carried out
between the year 1272, when Riley’s _Memorials_ begin, and 1314, when
a list of wards appears with the names that belong to the street or
quarter.
Thus we have[6]:—
1272. Ward of Thomas de Basinge (Bridge Ward).
1276. „ „ Castle Baynard.
1277. „ „ William de Hadestok (Tower Ward).
„ „ „ Portsoken.
„ „ „ Henry de Coventre (Vintry Ward).
„ „ „ Anketill de Auverne (Farringdon Ward Without).
„ „ „ Henry le Waleys (Cordwainers’ Ward).
1278. „ „ John Adrien (Walbrook Ward).
„ „ „ Chepe.
„ „ „ William Bukerel (Broad Street Ward).
„ „ „ John de Blakethorn (Aldersgate Ward).
„ „ „ Henry de Frowyk (Cripplegate Ward).
„ „ „ Ralph le Fever (Farringdon Within).
1283. „ „ William de Farndon (Farringdon Within).[7]
1291. „ „ Walbrook (see above).
„ „ „ Cornhill.
1295. „ „ Broad Street (see above).
„ „ „ Bishopsgate.
1300. „ „ Bassieshaw.
„ „ „ Coleman Street.
1303. „ „ Crepelgate.
„ „ „ Langeburne.
„ „ „ Tower Ward (see above).
1310. „ „ Without Ludgate (Farringdon Without).
1311. „ „ Dowgate.
„ „ „ Vintry (see above).
„ „ „ Aldersgate.
„ „ „ Cordwainer Street (see above).
„ „ „ Bread Street.
„ „ „ Lyme Street.
„ „ „ Candelwick Street.
„ „ „ Bridge Ward (see above).
1312. „ „ Queen Hythe.
From this list, it appears that between 1272 and 1283, of fourteen
wards named in the _Memorials_, three only have the name of their
street or quarter, the rest being all named after their Aldermen. But
from 1283 to 1314 there are nineteen wards mentioned, and they are
all named after their street or district. It is therefore safe to
conclude that within these forty years the aldermanry had ceased to be
proprietary or hereditary. We may connect this fact with the story of
Walter Hervey’s election in 1272 (see p. 52), which proves that the
oligarchy had already lost much of their power.
[Illustration: PARTS OF THE SOUTH AND WEST WALLS OF A CONVENT, 1293]
To repeat. The City consisted originally of a certain number of manors
or private estates: the proprietors of these estates were the so-called
barons of the City: some of the estates remained in the hands of
their proprietors for many generations: these proprietors constituted
themselves, without any law other than immemorial custom, the ruling
council of the City. The boundaries of the manors remained after the
property had been cut up and divided among many proprietors. Perhaps
the Aldermen remained with the representative of the old family. When,
one by one, the original proprietors had disappeared, died out, or
parted with their property, the ancient boundaries of the ward were
retained, and the inhabitants elected a chief, whom they still called
Alderman, in place of the hereditary Alderman. It was ordered, in
the thirteenth century, that the Alderman, like the Mayor, should be
elected every year, and should go out after serving his year of office.
But, as the new method was found to make difficulties, after half a
century they went back to the old plan of electing an Alderman for
life, and so the custom has remained ever since. The Alderman of the
ward represents the Lord of the Manor, and is its principal magistrate
for life.
Attention has been directed to the “Warda Episcopi.” Was, then, the
Bishop of London formerly an Alderman? He was. He took his seat among
the Aldermen in right of the property of the Church. He did not,
therefore, take part in the temporal government of the City as Bishop,
but as Alderman. This right he delegated to a Provost. So, also, the
Prior of the Holy Trinity was an Alderman, not as Prior, but as Lord of
the Manor of Portsoken.
When the Bishop ceased to preside over a ward I know not. It is
certain, however, that it was of incalculable advantage at that time
for the City of London to be partly governed in its temporal affairs
by one who was a great churchman, a great lord, a person often with
the King, a scholar and a statesman, one who had nothing to gain by
encroaching on the liberties of the people, and, therefore, one who
might be trusted. In certain cases it is known that he acted not by his
Provost, but personally. It was no doubt the Bishop who persuaded the
citizens into admitting William into the City as King on conditions
which involved no dishonour, but quite the contrary—namely, that
nothing was to be changed, but that all the rights and liberties which
the citizens had enjoyed under Edward the Confessor, or Alfred himself,
should be continued.
It must be borne in mind that parish boundaries and ward boundaries are
by no means the same. One instance there is where a parish and a ward
are conterminous, it is that of St. Michael Bassishaw.
Maitland gives the list of the wards in 1393 with their rateable value
at one fifteenth. Thus:—
“The Wards in the West of Wallbrook.
The Ward of Cheap, taxed in London at £72: 16s. and in the Exchequer
accounted for £72.
The Ward of the Vintry, in London at £36 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £35: 5s.
The Ward of Queenhithe, in London taxed at £20 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £20.
The Ward of Baynard-Castle, taxed in London at £12 and in the
Exchequer accounted for £12.
The Ward of Cordwainers-Street, in London at £72: 16s. and in the
Exchequer accounted for £72.
The Ward of Bread-Street, taxed in London at £37 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £36: 10s.
The Ward of Faringdon Without, in London taxed at £35 and in the
Exchequer accounted for £34: 10s.
The Ward of Faringdon Within, in London taxed at £54 and in the
Exchequer accounted for £53: 6: 8.
The Ward of Aldrychgate, taxed in London at £7 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £7.
The Ward of Cripplegate, taxed in London at £40 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £39: 10s.
The Ward of Cripplegate Without, in London taxed at £10 and in the
Exchequer accounted for £10. _N.B._—This was not a separate ward,
but only a liberty, or part of the former, under one Alderman, as at
present.
The Ward of Bassyngshawe, taxed in London at £7 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £7.
The Ward of Coleman-Street, taxed in London at £19 and in the
Exchequer accounted for £19.
The Wards on the east side of Wallbrook.
The Ward of Wallbrook, taxed in London at £40 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £39.
The Ward of Dowgate, taxed in London at £36 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £34: 10s.
The Ward of Brydge, taxed in London at £50 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £49: 10s.
The Ward of Byllingsgate, taxed in London at £32 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £31: 10s.
The Ward of the Tower, taxed in London at £46 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £45: 10s.
The Ward of Portsoken, taxed in London at £9 and in the Exchequer
accounted at £9.
The Ward of Aldgate, taxed in London at £6 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £5.
The Ward of Lyme-Street, taxed in London at 40s. and in the Exchequer
accounted for 40s.
The Ward of Byshopsgate, taxed in London at £22 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £21 10s.
The Ward of Broad-Street, taxed in London at £27 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £25.
The Ward of Cornhill, taxed in London at £16 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £16.
The Ward of Langbourne, taxed in London at £21 and in the Exchequer
accounted for £20: 10s.
The Ward of Candlewick-Street, taxed in London at £16 and in the
Exchequer accounted for £16.”
(Maitland, vol. i. p. 181.)
Outside the wards and not belonging to them, or within their
jurisdiction, were certain socs, liberties, or vacant spaces. Such were
the Precinct of St. Paul’s, the Precincts of the Religious Houses, the
Sanctuary of St. Martin’s le Grand, and the “Roomlands” or open spaces
of West Chepe, East Chepe, Tower Hill, and other places which were
afterwards absorbed into the wards.
The names of those who owned the manors, together with the names found
in contemporary documents, sufficiently prove how the Norman kings kept
their promise and left the London merchants in possession of their
property and their land. For with a few exceptions they are all Saxon
names. The first, Mayor, Henry of London Stone, was FitzAylwin: Basing,
Batt, Rokesby, Durman, Pountney, Bukerel, Billing, Faringdon, Thetmar,
Orgar, Leofwin, Brechmar, Alwold, Algod, Esgar, Algar, Liured are all
Saxon. Becket, it is true, is a name from Caen in Normandy. Blunt is
Blond; Anketill de Auverne proclaims his origin.
We remark also that lads from the country had already begun to seek
their fortune in London. We find Henry de Covyntre, Wolmar de Essex,
John de Northampton, and many others.
We are considering in this place the City only. But we cannot avoid
connecting the land all round the City, especially the land of
Middlesex, held in farm by the citizens, with the City itself.
The City was surrounded by a broad belt of manors. These were very
largely held by the Bishop, the cathedral, and certain abbeys and
religious houses: in addition to these proprietors there were also a
few nobles and private persons. The Abbey of Westminster owned a great
estate, including the Strand and the lands between the river and Oxford
Street: the De Veres held the manor of Kensington, but passed it over
to the Abbey of Abingdon. The Chapter of St. Paul’s possessed manors
at Willesden, Brondesbury, Brownswood, Chamberlain Wood, Mapesbury,
Marden, Harlesden, Twyford, St. Pancras, Rugmere (St. Giles’s),
Tottenhall, Kentish Town, Islington, Newington, Holborn, Portpool
(Gray’s Inn), Finsbury, Hoxton, Wincock, Barn, Mora, and Fald Street;
“covering a belt of land extending from St. Pancras on the west to the
episcopal Manor of Stepney on the east.”
This being the case, the question arises as to the advantages accruing
to the City in obtaining the Farm of Middlesex at £300 a year. It is
certain that they would not have welcomed the privilege so eagerly but
for the advantages it offered. These advantages may be summed up by the
simple fact that the King’s rights over Middlesex were farmed out to
the City. To begin with, the shire could no longer remain, as Southwark
continued to be, a refuge or safe asylum for criminals whom it was
difficult to catch, and still more difficult, in the conflict of royal
and manorial rights, to bring to justice: next, it was a great step,
though not at first understood, to creating the unity of the City.
Other advantages in the grant are set forth by Archdeacon Hall:—
“The Sheriffs of Middlesex—every London burgher, that is—henceforth
found themselves in possession, so to speak, when disputes arose
between king and people; there was also a certain income from the
courts which may eventually have been greater than the rent; the
military protection of the City was rendered more easy when its civil
jurisdiction extended so far beyond the walls, and the right conceded
to the citizens to hunt in the surrounding forests formed the outward
symbol of the completeness of their rule—a symbol which signified
more under a Norman king than at any time since. To recognise the
customs and laws of the City itself; to allow the ancient assemblies,
the husting and the folkmote; to sanction the election of magistrates
by the still unincorporated burghers; all these things were of
importance, but the grant of Middlesex was more than any of them.”
It has been said that these manors made the growth of the suburbs
impossible. But not in all directions. There was no obstacle to the
growth of the riverside suburb called the Strand; here a long line of
stately houses displaced the fishermen from Blackfriars to Westminster
stairs: there was no obstacle to the extension of London along the
river to the east, yet it did not extend in that direction. How the
Church, which was the principal owner of the suburban manors, affected
the successive settlements is described by Archdeacon Hall:—
“The suburbs, as I have said, owe their present condition not so
much to the City as to the Church. By the time Henry I. made his
grant of the county to the City, the broad lands of Middlesex had,
almost wholly, passed into the possession of the great ecclesiastical
foundations. What St. Paul had left, St. Peter acquired; and St.
Martin, St. Bartholomew, and a little later, Holy Trinity at Aldgate,
were watching to pick up fragments that the others had overlooked.
Therefore, we must ascribe the modern suburbs, with their curious
anomalies of local government, the so-called ‘metropolitan area’
with its imaginary boundaries, its districts and precincts, its
boards and its vestries, answering to the sokes and liberties, the
sanctuaries and wards within the walls, more to the clergy than to
the municipality. The City supplied the population to colonise the
wastes and woods; but the Church supplied the houses for them to dwell
in, marked out their streets, and controlled the direction of each
fresh stream of emigrants. When the first settlers along Holborn, or
in Norton, or by the White Chapel, went forth from the City gates,
it might have been expected that the rulers who had sway within the
walls, and to whom Middlesex now belonged, as much as it had belonged
to Earl Leofwine in the good days of King Edward, would have guided
their steps and continued to govern their actions. But, where the
citizens formed ‘wards without’ the walls, it was only by the leave,
or in spite of the prohibition, of the Church. The King, when he gave
to London the jurisdiction he had exercised in Middlesex, could give
no land with it. At the time of the Survey, the royal estates had
passed already to the Church, and William hardly owned an acre in the
county. The estates of the Norman nobles had nearly all gone into the
same hands by the time of Henry’s accession; and an enumeration of the
Middlesex manors which never, at any time, were held ‘in mortmain’
would not comprise half-a-dozen names. The citizens could not protect
their public meeting-place, their parade-ground, their markets within
the walls, from the grasp of the ‘dead hand’; much less could they
protect the new colonies of citizens in Kensington or Chelsea, in
Hackney or Tyburn, far out in the open country.”
CHAPTER V
THE FACTIONS OF THE CITY
The long struggle between the oligarchic and the popular party, which
was carried on without cessation for at least two hundred years, was
at its acutest and its worst in the thirteenth century. It must be
noted here because it exercised great influence in the development
of municipal institutions. To this point I will return after we have
considered the leading features of the faction struggle complicated by
the machinations of the King.
We must note, at the outset, that the various Charters conferring and
confirming old and new rights did not lay down laws for the government
of the City; nor was it contemplated that the City was to be governed
by the craftsmen. By Saxon custom every man was a lord or a dependant
upon a lord; yet there was a Folk Mote: by Norman rule every townsman
was under an over-lord and every countryman was under the Lord of the
Manor; yet the Folk Mote was continued. That the craftsmen of the town
were to be the rulers of the town; that they were to have a voice,
as we understand it, in the management of the City was considered by
the “Barons” of the City, the Aldermen, the wealthy merchants and the
notables as a thing to be resisted in every way possible. Yet, to
repeat, there was the Folk Mote with the lingering memory of a time
when the people were summoned and shouted their approval or their
refusal.
Again, we have been accustomed for so long to consider London as one
of the greatest and most important cities of the world that we fail to
realise her position in the twelfth or thirteenth century, as compared
with certain other cities of Western Europe, long since sunk into decay
and insignificance.
At that time the cities of Bruges, Ghent, and Ypres, now so shrunken
and so deserted, were, in point of population, at least twice as great
as London, while their trade and wealth were very much greater, even
in proportion, and the liberties enjoyed by their citizens were such
as London did not dream of until fired by their example. The trade
between the Port of London and these towns, especially Bruges, made the
citizens acquainted with these liberties as well as this wealth. It is
difficult not to connect the newly-born ambitions and aspirations of
the craftsmen of London with the liberties acquired by those of the
Flemish towns.
London was governed, as we have seen, by the owners of the land; they
were presently joined by the richer merchants; but they remained few in
number. And they ruled the City in their own interests. We have seen
how valuable was the Charter of Henry the First, how it assisted the
City to advance, how it enabled the merchants to conduct their trade
with greater security and ease, how it gave the citizens the right of
electing their own sheriffs and their own justiciar, who were to be
appointed by the citizens. What this meant, I take it, was that the
Aldermen nominated the sheriffs, and their election by the people took
the form of an assent declared at a noisy and tumultuous Folk Mote. It
certainly could not be, and was not, an election by the citizens as
we understand it. That the governing body had the power of election
was a concession of the highest importance to them. The privileges of
freedom from toll, etc., were again of enormous value to the merchants,
but only indirectly to the craftsmen; now craftsmen understand direct
advantage only. In a word, the Charters did not interfere with the
government of the City, which remained in the hands of the small
company of Aldermen. The Charters were intended to advance the trade
and the prosperity of the City, not to confer new liberties upon the
working man. Yet the craftsman began to understand the possibilities
open to him.
The struggle begins, so far as history knows of it, with the brief and
stormy episode of William Longbeard, shortly before the granting of the
Commune. His is the first articulate voice heard among the murmurs of
popular discontent. Perhaps there were other Hampdens before him whose
dust lies beneath our feet, and whose blood like his tinged the earth
of Smithfield, but we do not know of them.
Towards the close of the twelfth century change was impending. Guilds
there were. As yet, they were not, as a rule, trading, but religious
societies. As we have seen, in 1186, Henry the Second fined as many as
eighteen for having been incorporated without license. What can this
indicate but that the regulation of trade was contemplated by these
guilds as well as the charitable and religious objects for which such
associations were at first founded?
Even more important than the regulations of trade is the great fact
that by means of their guilds the people, who had hitherto been
inarticulate and powerless, were now becoming able to speak and to
listen and to act.
Their grievances seem to have been at first founded rather on suspicion
than on proof. When the City was taxed, the assessors were the
Aldermen; the craftsmen had to pay what they were ordered to pay; no
one knew what the Aldermen themselves paid. They were therefore, very
naturally, accused of shifting the whole burden of taxation from their
own shoulders to those of the craftsmen. But a grievance of suspicion,
among a rude and ignorant people, is as dangerous as a grievance
founded on fact. Another grievance was the poll tax, in which the poor
men paid as much as the rich men. And a standard grievance in every
industrial city, and in every age, is the question of wages and hours.
Presently the Deliverer arose—who yet was to prove no Deliverer.
William, called FitzOsbert, and sometimes William Longbeard, was the
grandson of a certain Osbert, one of the Aldermen who, in 1125, had
given to the Priory of the Holy Trinity, with the King’s permission,
the lands belonging to the Cnihten Guild.
He was, therefore, by birth one of the governing class, whose abuses he
attacked. He was also, it would seem from the first episode in his life
which has come down to us, of a nature easily moved and imaginative,
and, like his grandfather, disposed to piety. Such a mind belongs to
the man who instinctively hates injustice and oppression.
Most of the chroniclers who tell the story belong to the other side,
and, therefore, charge him with everything that they dare: the crimes,
however, are so vague, such as obscurity of origin, meanness of
appearance, ingratitude to a brother, that they mean nothing and may
be neglected. I prefer to take the evidence of the historian, Roger de
Hoveden, who says as follows:—
“The rich men, sparing their own purses, wanted the poor to pay
everything. But a certain lawyer, William FitzOsbert by name, or
Long-beard, becoming sensible of this, being inflamed by zeal for
justice and equity, became the champion of the poor, it being his wish
that every person, both rich as well as poor, should give according
to his property and means for all the necessities of the State; and,
going across the sea to the King, he demanded his protection for
himself and the people.” (Roger de Hoveden’s _Annals_, vol. ii.)
The facts are few as they have come down to us. But we can learn
something about the man. He was, to begin with, a visionary; now it is
out of visionaries that martyrs, confessors, and enthusiasts are made.
I know that he was a visionary from a little story related of him. He
was one of those who took the cross and the vow when King Richard went
on his crusade, and sailed in the fleet which contained the London and
the Dartmouth Crusaders whose intention was to fight the Infidels. This
fact points in the direction of an emotional temperament easily moved
to enthusiasm. The fleet was becalmed in the Bay of Biscay. Thereupon,
William FitzOsbert, with one Geoffrey, a goldsmith, prayed to St.
Thomas à Becket—the newly canonised saint—already considered as the
natural protector of London. St. Thomas, to the eyes of faith, answered
their prayers in person. He appeared to them. He bade them be of good
cheer; he promised a favourable breeze in the morning, after which they
should accomplish their vows and return in safety. It must have been a
visionary who would actually see the saint and receive his message. In
the morning the promised breeze sprang up; the ships proceeded on their
course and put in at a Portuguese port. Here they learned that the King
of Portugal was in dire straits, being besieged by the Moors with a
vast army. The Crusaders resolved upon going to his assistance; among
them marched William FitzOsbert, rejoicing in the promise made him by
St. Thomas à Becket, that he should perform his vows and should return.
In these days he would have said that St. Thomas had need of him in his
native town.
The Moors being defeated, the London Crusaders thought they had done
their duty in fighting the Infidel, and so returned home.
After this crusade, William made the discovery above described. Now he
was not of obscure birth, because he belonged to one of the great City
families; his grandfather had been an Alderman, probably his father as
well; he was a scholar—one Chronicler calls him a lawyer; he was a man
of eloquence; he could persuade and carry with him the rude craftsmen
of London, whom he gathered together at Paul’s Cross in the name of the
old Folk Mote. He found out irregularities of all kinds on the part
of the governing class. When there was neither audit nor scrutiny,
irregularities were inevitable. He imparted these discoveries to the
King, who listened with attention, and doubtless communicated his views
on the subject to the Archbishop of Canterbury, then justiciary. It may
be understood, also, that his communications rendered him peculiarly
hateful to his own class, the governing body, whom he had deserted.
His nickname, Longbeard, denotes his desertion of that class, which
affected Norman customs, and either wore no beard or a very small
beard. He himself went back to the old Saxon custom, which seems to
have been retained by the craftsmen, and grew a long beard.
He left, then, his own people; he was no longer one of the governing
class; he joined the party of the craftsmen; to show his change of
opinion and of plan, he grew a beard. And we find him a great orator,
haranguing the people on their wrongs; calling them together at Paul’s
Cross; followed by a crowd who waited on his words; going to the King
with proofs of the evil-doing of the Aldermen; getting, at first, the
ear of the King, until Richard was set against the reforms by reports
against FitzOsbert, such as that he was continually exciting the
populace to further discontent. The historians, as has been stated,
differ as to William’s real character. Stow, copying some of the
Chronicles, says that he was “poor in degree, evil-favoured in shape
... a counterfeit friend to the poor ... a man of evil life, a murderer
... who falsely accused his elder brother of treason....”
[Illustration: THE TOWER OF LONDON ABOUT 1480
From MS. Roy. 16.]
Holinshed says that he was a “seditious person and of a busie nature.”
Fabyan’s account is much more favourable. I subjoin his account of the
whole episode:—
“And Wyllyam with ye longe berde shewyd to ye kynge the owtrage of
the ryche men, whiche, as he sayd, sparyd theyr owne, and pylled the
poore people. It is sayde that this Wyllyam was borne in London, and
purchased that name by use of his berde. He was sharpe of wyt, and
somedeale lettred, a bolde man of speche, and sadde of his contenance,
and toke upon hym gretter dedys than he cowde weld: and some he usyd
cruell, as apereth in appechynge of his owne brother of treason, ye
whiche was a burges of London, and to hym had shewed great kyndenesse
in his youthe. This Wyllyam styred and excyted ye common people to
desyre and love fredam and lybertye, & blamed the excesse and owtrage
of ryche men: by syche meanys, he drewe to hym many great companyes,
and, with all his power, defendyd the poore mannys cause agayne the
ryche, and accused dyuerse to ye kyng, shewinge that by theyr meanys,
ye kyng loste many forfaytes and encheatis. For this, gentylmen and
men of honoure, malygned agayne hym, but he had suche comforte of ye
kyng, that he kept on his purpose. Then ye kyng beyng warned of the
congregacions that this Wyllyam made, commaunded hym to cease of such
doyngys, that the people myght exercyse theyr artis and occupacions;
by reason whereof it was lefte for a whyle: but it was not longe or
ye people followed hym, as they before hys tyme had done. Then he
made unto them colacions or exortacions, & toke for his anteteme,
‘Haurietis aquas in gaudio de fontibus saluatoris,’ that is to meane,
ye shall drawe, in joy, waters of ye wellys, of our savyour: and to
this he added, ‘I am,’ sayd he, ‘ye savyoure of poore men; ye be
poore and have assayed ye harde handis of ryche men; now drawe ye
therefore holefull water of lore of my wellys, and that with joy, for
ye tyme of youre vysytacyon is comyn. I shall,’ sayde he, ‘departe
waters from waters. By waters I understande the people; then shall I
departe the people which is good and meke, from the people that is
wyckyd and prowde, and I shall dissevyr the good and the ylle, as the
lyght is departyd from the derkenesse.’ When the bysshop was brought
to ye archebisshop of Canterbury, he, by counceyll of the lordis of
the spyritualtye, sent unto this Wyllyam, commaundynge hym to appere
before the lordis of the kyngys counceyll to answere unto suche
maters as there shulde be layed unto hym. At which day this Wyllyam
appered, havynge with hym a multytude of people, in so moch that the
lordys were of hym adrad, for ye which cause they remyttyd hym with
pleasaunt wordys for that tyme, and commaundyd certeyn personys, in
secrete maner, to espye when he were voyde of his company, and then to
take hym, and to put hym in sure kepyng, the which, accordyng to that
commaundment, at tyme convenyent, as they thought, sette upon hym and
to have takyn hym; but he, with an axe, resysted them, and slew one of
theym, and after fled to Saynt Mary Bowe Church, of Chepe, and tooke
that for his savegarde, defendynge hym by strength, and not by ye
suffragis of ye church: for to hym drewe, shortly, great multytude of
people; but in short processe, by mean of the hedys and rulers of ye
cytie, the people mynysshed, so that, in short tyme, he was left with
fewe personys, and after, by fyre, compellyd to forsake the church,
and so was taken, but not without shedying of blode. After which
takyng, he was arreygned before ye jugys, and there, with ix. of his
adherentis, cast and judged to dye, and was hanged, and they with hym
the day folowynge. But yet the rumor ceased not; for the common people
reysyed a great cryme upon the archbisshop of Cantorbury, and other,
and sayd that, by theyr meanes, Wyllyam, which was an innocent of
suche crymes as were objecte and pute agayne hym, and was a defendor
of the pore people agayne extorcioners and wronge doers, was by them
put wrongfully to deth: approuyng hym an holy man and martyr, by
this tale folowyng: sayinge, that a man, beyng seke of the fevers,
was curid by vertue of a cheyn which this Wyllyam was bounde with in
tyme of his dures of enprysonement, which, by a preest of the allye
of the sayd Wyllyam was openly declared & prechyd, wherby he brought
the people in such an errour, that they gave credence to his wordys,
and secretly, in the night, conveyed away ye jebet that he was hangyd
upon and scrapyd awey that blode made there an holow place by fetchyng
away of that erthe, and sayde that syke men and women were cured
of dyverse sykenesses by vertue of that blode and erthe. By theyse
meanes, and blowyng of fame, that place was the more vysyted by women
and undyscrete persones, of ye which some watchyd there ye hoole nyght
in prayer, so that the lenger this contynuyd, ye more disclaunder
was anotyd to the justyces, and to suche as put hym to deth:
notwithstandynge, in processe of tyme when his actys were publysshed,
as ye sleigne of man with his owne hande, and uysyng of his concubyne
within seynt Mary Church, in tyme of his there beynge, as he openlye
confessyd in the owre of his deth, with other detestable crymes,
somewhat keyld ye great flame of ye hasty pylgrymage; but not clerely
tyll ye archebisshop of Canterbury accursed ye preest that brought up
the firste fable, and also causyd that place to be watchyd, that suche
idolatry shuld there no more be used.” (Fabyan’s _Chronicles_, p. 306.)
The mention of the woman is also made by Holinshed. He adds a single
line which contains a world of love and pathos, the words, “who never
left him fearing danger might betide him.” Fabyan’s words “not without
shedding of blood” are by Holinshed shown to mean that one of his
assailants thrust a knife into William’s body, so that he was carried
to the Tower. One pictures the faithful, loving creature—was she his
wife?—watching by the wounded man all night, giving him such solace in
the agony of his wound as she could, and going out in the morning to
see him die—or haply, to die with him. The manner of his death was that
which was ordered for William Wallace, a hundred years later. William
Longbeard and his friends were dragged by the heels to Smithfield and
then hanged. The distance from the Tower to Smithfield is a mile and
a quarter. It is a long way for the body of a man to be dragged: first
the head and arms and back were bruised by the roughness of the road;
then the clothes were torn to rags; when the sufferer arrived at the
gibbet he was already senseless from the blows and buffets of his head
against the stones and rough places in the road; when he was hoisted
up on the gibbet, his body, stripped of the clothes, was bleeding and
torn. Was that poor woman present? Perhaps they took her to Smithfield
in a cart and burned her alive.
The case, as I said, is one of a Reformer before his time. One knows
not all the reforms he desired and advocated. The example of his life,
however, and the tradition of his teaching, remained. The Archbishop
might curse the priest, or anybody there who defended him. But the fact
remained that this man died a martyr for the cause of justice against
oppression and despotic rule. Such a life is not wasted.
Then came the Commune with the struggle, begun by Longbeard, of the
craftsmen against the governing class, caused by their resolve to
obtain their share in the administration. It was in one sense fortunate
for the City that the factions and the struggles which divided the City
were continually complicated by the dissension of King and Barons. The
issues were thus to a great extent obscured, and what might have been
civil war in the City became part of the civil wars between the King
and the Barons.
The reign of Henry the Third is filled with the King’s displeasure
against the City as well as with the quarrels and dissensions which
rent the City in twain. Let us run rapidly through the main incidents
of the time, and then consider how the growth and development of the
Commune were affected by those factions.
In the year 1221, or 1223, the tumult for which Constantine FitzArnult
was hanged awakened the jealousy and suspicion of the young King,
because it revealed the existence or the survival of a French party in
the City. I cannot but think that this foolish rising was the first
cause of that hatred towards his rich city which Henry entertained
throughout his reign. The conspiracy, says Fabyan, was so “heinous and
grievous to the King that he was mynded and purposed to throwe downe
the wallys of the Citie.” However, for the time he was appeased, and
presently issued his Charter of Confirmation to the City with the grant
of a common seal.
In 1229 the Aldermen, with the consent of the people, agreed that a
sheriff should not continue in office for more than one year, because
charges had been brought against previous sheriffs of taking bribes
from victuallers, and also of various extortions. On referring to the
list we find that the continuance in office of the sheriffs had become
of recent years a common practice, as the following list (_Stow_)
shows:—
1218. Sheriffs. John Viel[8] and John Le Spicer.
1219. „ John Viel „ Richard Wimbledon.
1220. „ John Viel „ Richard Renger.
1221. „ Thomas Lambart, Richard Renger.
1222. „ Thomas Lambart, Richard Renger.
1223. „ John Travars, Andrew Bokerel.
1224. „ John Travars, Andrew Bokerel.
1225. „ Roger Duke, Martin FitzWilliam.
1226. „ Roger Duke, Martin FitzWilliam.
1227. „ Stephen Bokerel, Henry Cocham.
1228. „ Stephen Bokerel, Henry Cocham.
In 1240, the Aldermen were elected and changed yearly, “but,” says
Stow, “that order lasted not long.” (See Appendices II. and III.)
In the same year, following Fabyan’s Chronology, the King began to
side with the popular party, intending in this manner to break up the
privileges of the City.
At this point it is necessary to seek more closely into the reasons
of the weakness which made London an almost unresisting prey to the
exactions of this insatiate and insatiable King. The City, which could
lend Simon de Montfort a fully equipped army of 15,000 men, might
surely at any moment close its gates, keep the mouth of the Thames
clear, and defy the King. But for many years it offered no resistance
at all. The reason will immediately appear. A change so slow and
gradual that it only at this juncture became important was passing over
the City of London and its institutions, or to put it more accurately,
the institutions themselves remained unchanged, yet assumed new
meanings. It was, as has been already advanced, the happiness of London
that, except for a very brief episode, its over-lord was the King and
none other. The reeve of the borough was the bailiff or steward of
this lord. In the name of the lord he was the magistrate; he collected
rents, tolls and dues; he called the burgesses to their mote; he took
care that the rights of the lord were properly executed. These duties
observed, the burgesses were left at liberty to govern themselves.
Naturally, when the town became prosperous it began to buy out the
privileges of the over-lord. Thus, the Charters of the City of London
are the recognition by king after king, that a certain portion of the
rights of the over-lord have been bought out or conceded. And the reign
of such a king as Henry the Third is a continual disregard of these
concessions or purchases, by the assertion over and over again of the
rights and powers of the over-lord, never, however, going so far as to
give the City to any other over-lord. Thus Henry, as we shall see, in
spite of the Charters, held courts in the City by his own justiciar,
and called the citizens to plead their own cases at Westminster.
These Charters, then, granted their liberties to the citizens. But who
were the citizens? “Land was from the first the test of freedom, and
the possession of land was what constituted the townsman.... In England
the landless man who dwelled in a borough had no share in its corporate
life: for purposes of government or property the town was simply an
association of the landed proprietors within its bounds.” (Green’s
_History of the English People_.)
These words explain the whole position. In the twelfth century the
government of London was entirely in the hands of certain families who
held the land. As we have seen, the wards were their own property,
named after them: the heads of these families were hereditary Aldermen
of the wards. The members of this corporation or association were
themselves, for the most part, engaged in trade. They were the
wholesale traders—mercers, drapers, merchant adventurers. They would
not admit within their body the craftsmen, who began, however, to form
guilds for themselves. And the efforts of the governing body were
directed against the formation of the craft guilds which, they plainly
saw, would lead to the destruction of their own power. In the reign
of Henry the Third this struggle of the _Prud hommes_ or the “wise
men”—the men of the ruling class—against the craftsmen was at its
fiercest. In the reign of John, they had secured the suppression of the
comprehensive weavers’ guild. Slow and difficult is the process and
many are the lessons which must be learned, great are the oppressions
which must be endured, before men so far overcome their suspicion of
each other as to unite for the common good. The Londoner—the man of
the commonalty—of Henry the Third could unite for fighting purposes;
he could trust his brother to stand by him shoulder to shoulder; what
he could not do was to trust his brother-craftsman not to overreach
him, or to undersell him. Do we not see the same thing to-day? We think
we are better educated and wiser; and we are even now exhorting men
to do exactly what these popular leaders of the thirteenth century
exhorted them to do, namely—to combine. The commonalty, at first, were
galled, not so much by having no share in the administration, for they
had never looked for any, but by the suspicion that the real burden
of taxation fell upon themselves instead of on the wealthy. The names
of the Mayors of this reign sufficiently indicate the side on which
the power lay from time to time. Thus Basing, Blunt, Bukerel, Frowyk,
FitzWalter are names of the old families: Le Fullour and Grapefig are
the names of craftsmen.
Early in the long reign of Henry the Third we find a certain Symon
FitzMary, whose name perhaps indicates an origin so obscure that it was
only derived from his mother, yet he was one of the Aldermen, one of
the popular party, and—which is significant—in the service of the King.
Henry, therefore, was playing off the popular against the aristocratic
side. Symon was elected Sheriff in the year 1233, but in the first term
of his shrievalty he was charged with “wasting the property that formed
the issues of the Sheriffwick.” He was, therefore, set aside,—surely a
very strong step,—and his clerks were ordered in his place to collect
the money that formed the _Firma_. Six years later, in 1239, Symon
presents himself at the election of sheriffs. He has letters from
the King commanding the City to elect him. Here we have a deliberate
attempt of the King to trample on the Charters. The City refused to
obey, and repaired to Court in hopes of conciliating the King’s favour,
but could not, “so that,” says FitzThedmar, “the City was without a
Mayor for three months, when Gerard Bat, one of the aristocratic party,
was elected.” At the next election he was again chosen. Then follows
a very curious story. With him “certain of the citizens proceeded to
Wodestok, for the purpose of presenting him; and his lordship the King
declined to admit him [to the Mayoralty] there, or before he had come
to London. And on the third day after, upon the King’s arrival there,
he admitted him; and after the oath had been administered to him, that
he would restore everything that had before been taken and received,
and would not receive the forty pounds which the Mayors had previously
been wont to receive from the City, the Mayor said, when taking his
departure:—‘Alas! my Lord, out of all this I might have found a
marriage portion to give my daughter.’ For this reason the King was
moved to anger, and forthwith swore upon the altar of Saint Stephen, by
Saint Edward, and by the oath which he that day took upon that altar,
and said:—‘Thou shalt not be Mayor this year, and for a very little
I would say, Never. Go, now.’ The said Gerard, hereupon, not caring
to have the King’s ill-will, resigned the Mayoralty, and Reginald de
Bunge was appointed Mayor of London.” (Riley’s edit. FitzThedmar’s
_Chronicles of Old London_, p. 9.)
At the same time we find this oppressive King calling the citizens
together at Paul’s Cross, and asking their leave to pass over-seas to
Gascony!
On his return, the King took the City into his own hand for harbouring
a certain Walter Bukerel without warrant, yet it was proved that
Bukerel had been pardoned. He “took the City into his own hand,” _i.e._
he suspended all the Charters and Liberties; but he gave it to the
Mayor, Ralph Aswy, for safe keeping. He then marched north to fight
the Scots, but on his return he forbade the sheriffs to perform any of
their functions. The City bought their pardon by paying a fine of £1000.
Again we find Symon FitzMary active at the election of the Sheriffs.
It was in 1244. Now in 1229 the Aldermen had all taken oath that at no
time would they allow the same man to be Sheriff for two consecutive
years. Symon, therefore, understanding that it was proposed to re-elect
Nicholas Bat, rose in his place and called him a perjurer. Reading
between the lines, we understand that the self-denying ordinance of
1229 was a concession to the popular party, and the re-election of
Bat in 1244 was due to the return to power of the other side. There
was certainly a warm debate, and in the end Symon had to resign his
Aldermanry, and Nicholas Bat was re-elected. The case, however, was
taken before the King, who refused to admit Nicholas Bat.
To this time belongs a series of determined attacks upon the liberties
of the City by the King. There was first the case of Margery Vyel;
then the claims of the Abbot of Westminster; and thirdly, the Fair
of Westminster. The Fair was granted to the Abbot of Westminster for
fifteen days, to be held in Tothill Fields. During its continuance,
trade of all kinds was to cease in London. Consider the intolerable
nature of this enactment. The City bought off the latter regulation
for the sum of £2000. As regards the claims of Westminster Abbey, they
were complicated by questions of mediæval law and rights; for a long
time they were advanced as a means of worrying the City. Thus, in 1249,
the King appointed a “day of love” (_i.e._ reconciliation) between the
City and the Abbot of Westminster. The meeting was held at the Temple.
The Mayor, being accompanied by a “countless multitude,” met the Abbot,
who had with him certain of the King’s Justices. But there was no
conference; the whole of the people, with one consent, declared that
they would have no conference, but would abide by their Charters. The
case was taken before the King, but nothing seems to have been decided.
This brings us to the claim of Margery Vyel. It is related by Arnold
FitzThedmar. Let us use his own words as far as possible.
“In the same year”—A.D. 1246—“on the Monday next after Hockeday
[Hocking day was the second Tuesday after Easter] it was adjudged in
the Guildhall that a woman who had been endowed with a certain and
specified dower may not, nor ought to have of the chattels of her
deceased husband beyond the certain and specified dower assigned to
her, unless in accordance with the will of her husband. And this befel
through Margery, the relict of John Vyel the elder, who, by numerous
writs of his Lordship the King, demanded in the Hustings of London, the
third part of the chattels belonging to her said husband.”
In the next year (A.D. 1247) “on the Monday after St. Peter Chains
[St. Peter ad Vincula, August 1st] Henry de Ba, a Justiciar sent by
his Lordship the King, came to St. Martin’s-le-Grand, where the record
which had been given upon complaint of Margery Vyel was, to which
judgment the said Margery had made complaint to his Lordship the King,
and had found judges to prove that the same was false. Whereupon the
Mayor and citizens meeting them, the record having been read through,
and all the writs of his Lordship the King which the said Margery had
obtained having been read and heard, the Justiciar said, ‘I do not say
that this judgment is false, but the process thereof is faulty, as
there is no mention made in this record of summons of the opponents of
the said Margery, and seeing that John Vyel, her husband, made a will,
it did not pertain to your Court to determine such a plea as this.’
To which the citizens made answer ‘There was no necessity to summons
those who had possession of the property of the deceased for they were
always ready, and preferred to stand trial at suit of the said Margery
in our Court: and besides, we were fully able to entertain such plea
by assent of the two parties, who did not at all claim or demand the
Ecclesiastical Court and seeing that his Lordship the King by his writ
commanded us to determine the same.’
At length after much altercation had taken place between the Justiciar
and the citizens, the Justiciar said that they must show all this to
the King and his Council and so they withdrew. Afterwards, however,
and solely for this cause, the King took the city into his own hands
and by his writ entrusted it to the custody of William de Haverille
and Edward de Westminster, namely, on the vigil of St. Bartholomew
(Aug. 24th): whereupon the Mayor and citizens went to the King at
Wudestok and showed him that they had done no wrong: but they could not
regain his favour. Wherefore, upon their arrival at London, William
de Haverille exacted an oath of the clerks and all the serjeants who
belonged to the Shrievalty, that they would be obedient unto him, the
Mayor and Sheriffs being removed from their bailiwicks. Afterwards, on
the Sunday before the Nativity of St. Mary (Sept. 8th) the Mayor and
Sheriffs, by leave of the King, received the City into their hands and
a day was given them to make answer as to the aforesaid judgment before
the King and his Barons, namely, the morrow of the Translation of St.
Edward [June 9th] at Westminster, and on the morrow of St. Edward,
the Mayor and citizens appeared at Westminster to make answers to the
judgment before mentioned, that had been given against the aforesaid
Margery Vyel and so on from day to day till the fourth day, upon which
last day, the King requested them to permit the Abbot of Westminster
to enjoy the franchises which the King had granted him in Middlesex in
exchange for other liberties which the citizens might of right demand.
To which the citizens made answer that they could do nothing in such a
matter without the consent of the whole community. The King on learning
this, as though moved to anger, made them appear before him and after
much altercation had passed as to the said judgment (Henry de la Mare a
kinsman of the before named Margery Vyel constantly making allegations
against the citizens) counsel being at last held before the King
between the Bishops and Barons, the Mayor and citizens were acquitted
and took their departure.” (Riley’s edition, FitzThedmar’s _Chronicles
of Old London_.)
It will be observed that the King broke the Charters, first by sending
his own Justiciar into the City to hear an appeal; next, by making the
Mayor and citizens go to Westminster to have a City case tried; and
thirdly, by granting the Abbot of Westminster rights or privileges in
the County of Middlesex which was held and farmed by the City.
The City, at the price of surrendering its liberties, won the case,
evidently a case considered as of the very highest importance. The
reward bestowed upon Symon FitzMary is related by FitzThedmar:
“It should be observed, that when Symon FitzMary, for his offence,
had delivered his Aldermanry into the hands of the City, as above
noticed, by assent of the whole community the Mayor returned him his
Aldermanry, upon condition of his conceding that if at any future
time he should again contravene the franchises of the City, the Mayor
might, without plea or gainsaying, take back his Aldermanry, into the
hands of the City, and wholly remove him therefrom. Wherefore, in this
year, because the said Symon had manifestly sided with Margery Vyel in
the complaint which she had made to his lordship the King as to the
judgment given by the citizens—as to which, as is already written, she
herself was cast—as also, for many other evil and detestable actions of
which he had secretly been guilty against the City, the Mayor took his
Aldermanry into his own hands, and wholly removed him therefrom; and
the men of that Ward, receiving liberty to elect on the Monday before
Mid-Lent chose Alexander le Ferrun, and that too in his absence; but
he, afterwards appearing at the Hustings, was on the Monday following
admitted Alderman.” (_Chronicles of Old London_, pp. 16-17.)
And so Symon vanishes. One would like to hear more of his political
career. As regards his private history, his will, by which he founded
the House of St. Mary of Bethlehem, survives, so that he is the
originator of the Royal Bethlehem Hospital, which has served the City
so well and so long. He may have been of humble origin, in which case
he is an early example of the rise of a poor lad to wealth, an example
that after his time became well-nigh impossible until the eighteenth
century.
In 1257 occurred another of the many strange stories of this time. A
sealed Roll was found in the King’s wardrobe at Windsor. No one knew
who wrote it, or how it came there. The Roll contained “many articles
against the Mayor, to the effect that the City had been aggrieved by
him and his abettors beyond measure, as well as in respect of tallage
and of other injuries that had been committed by them.” In other
words, the Roll contained a statement, no doubt highly coloured, of
the discontented. The King, pretending to be resolute that the poor
should not be treated unjustly, sent John Maunsell, Justiciar, to
London with orders to hold a Folk Mote and to inquire into the truth
of the allegations, which was done. Then the Aldermen were ordered
to convene their ward motes, and to cause the people in each ward to
elect six-and-thirty deputies, _the Aldermen being absent_; and these
six-and-thirty men were ordered to appear in the hall of the Bishop of
London. They were there put on oath; but they refused to make oath,
alleging that by the laws of the City they ought not to make oath
except upon a question of life or limb, or where land was to be lost
or gained. The next day, at the Guildhall, the deputies still refused
to take oath. Whereupon the King sent word that all he desired was
to learn the truth; that he was willing to leave their franchises
unimpaired, and that he desired to ascertain how his faithful people
had been aggrieved in tallages and by whom. Then John Maunsell spoke
pleasantly to the people, asking if they were not content with the
promise of the King. And they shouted, “Yea, Yea,” “in disparagement,”
says the Chronicler, who belonged to the City Barons, “of their own
franchises, which, in fact, these most wretched creatures had not been
the persons to secure.”
John Maunsell then proceeded to seize the City for the King, and to
depose the Mayor, Sheriffs, and City Chamberlain. There was a trial
at Westminster before the King; there was another Folk Mote, at which
the people were persuaded by the silver-tongued John Maunsell to shout
for the destruction of their own liberties, of which they understood
little indeed. The Chronicler, in indignation, calls them “sons of
divers mothers, many of them born without the City, and many of servile
condition.” At that time, one observes, they were very far from the
possibility of a democracy.
The popular cause never fails, in any age, to attract to itself leaders
from the other side. William FitzOsbert, whose rise and fall we have
already chronicled, had attempted to do for the commonalty, in King
Richard’s reign, what Thomas FitzThomas attempted with greater success
seventy years later. He was Sheriff during the sealed Roll business;
his brother, Sheriff Matthew Bukerel, was deposed, and was replaced
by a person whose name has already been mentioned, William Grapefig.
William FitzRichard, another of the popular party, was made Mayor. In
1261-62, and in 1262-63, Thomas FitzThomas was elected Mayor, certainly
by the people, as the names of the Sheriffs for the year imply that
they had the upper hand for the time. His first year of office was
marked by the stout resistance which he made to the Constable of the
Tower, who attempted to take “prisage” of ships in the river. Now, one
of the most important privileges of the City was the command of the
river, so that no duties or tolls should be levied on ships coming up
or going down the river except by themselves. FitzThomas was elected
for a second year of office. And now you shall hear, what in the
thirteenth century was thought by a merchant of the old school, of a
man who could encourage the combination of trades and crafts.
“Be it here remarked[9] that this Mayor, during the time of his
Mayoralty, had so pampered the City populace that, styling themselves
the ‘Commons of the City,’ they had obtained the first voice in
the City. For the Mayor, in doing all that he had to do, ruled and
determined through them, and would say to them, ‘Is it your will that
so it shall be?’ and then if they answered, ‘Yea, Yea,’ so it was done.
And, on the other hand, the Aldermen or chief citizens were little or
not at all consulted in such matter; but were, in fact, just as though
they had not existed. Through this that same populace became so elated
and so inflated with pride that during the commotions in the realm, of
which mention has been previously made, they formed themselves into
covins and leagued themselves together by oath, by the hundred and by
the thousand, under a sort of colour of keeping the peace, whereas
they themselves were manifestly disturbers of the peace. For whereas
the Barons were only fighting against those who wished to break the
aforesaid statutes, and seized the property of each and that too by
day, the other broke into the houses of the people and of other persons
in the City who were not against the said statutes and by main force
carried off the property found in such houses, besides doing many other
unlawful acts as well. As to the Mayor, he censured these persons in
but a lukewarm way.” (_Chronicles of Old London_, p. 59.)
Further, the barons, wishing above all things at this juncture to
conciliate the citizens, desired that they would put in writing
anything they might desire in augmentation of their liberties, and
undertook, if the thing were reasonable, to bring it before the King
and Council. Then this Mayor called upon the craftsmen and ordered
them to make such provisions as should be to their own advantage.
“Accordingly, after this, from day to day, individuals of every craft
of themselves made new statutes and provisions, or rather such as may
be called ‘abominations’—and that solely to their own advantage, and to
the intolerable loss of all merchants coming to London and visiting the
faire of England and the exceeding injury of all persons in the realm.”
This was the first trades union. Their rules were drawn up by the
working men themselves. The memory of the old frith guilds had by this
time perished, but there were fraternities, or religious associations,
which would help them to some knowledge of the rules which they should
lay down. Such as they were, the Chronicler tells us, they were not
carried into effect.
In 1263-64 Thomas FitzThomas was again elected Mayor; but the King
refused to receive him, being “for many reasons greatly moved to anger
against the City.”
In the same year began the Barons’ War, in which the Londoners
played a conspicuous, if not a noble, part. They reduced the castle
of Rochester; they destroyed the palace at Isleworth, belonging to
Richard, the King’s brother; they murdered five hundred Jews; they
pillaged the property of the foreign merchants; and at the battle of
Lewes they ran away.
Peace being made in the following year, Henry, now a prisoner, was
made to hold a Court in St. Paul’s, where the Mayor, again Thomas
FitzThomas, and the Aldermen swore fealty to him. A marginal note of
the Chronicle completes the history of this oath. “Then those who were
present might see a thing wondrous and unheard of in this age: for the
most wretched Mayor, when taking the oath, dared to utter words so rash
as these, saying unto his lordship the King in presence of the people,
‘My lord, so long as unto us you will be a good lord and King, we will
be faithful and duteous unto you.’” The Mayor was four hundred years
before his time.
After the defeat and death of Simon de Montfort at Evesham, there was
great alarm in the City. Some proposed to close the gates and call
together the adherents of the Barons’ cause; others proposed immediate
submission. The latter course prevailed. Letters of submission were
drawn up and sent to the King at Windsor. The messengers on the way met
Sir Roger de Lilbourne, who told them that he was sent to declare the
King’s pleasure to the citizens. The King’s pleasure was immediate and
complete submission: the removal of all chains and posts in the streets
as a mark of submission, and the despatch of the Mayor and principal
men of the City to Windsor under letters of safe conduct. They went.
FitzThomas, unluckily, was once more Mayor. The King disregarded the
letters of safe conduct and clapped them into prison. All of them,
except FitzThomas, were shortly afterwards released. Henry remembered
the words by which FitzThomas had sworn a limited loyalty. FitzThomas
never again appeared. He vanished. Perhaps the King ordered his
execution; perhaps he caused him to languish for the rest of his life
in prison. However that may be, FitzThomas was no more seen.
Henry came to London, his chief enemy in custody; he gave away sixty
houses belonging to the principal citizens; he fined the City 20,000
marks. On the 6th of December of the same year (1265) John de la Linde,
knight, and John Wallraven, clerk, were made seneschals, the Tower of
London being delivered into their hands. On the same day there came to
Westminster four-and-twenty citizens, who swore faithfully and safely
to keep the City in the King’s behalf under their two seneschals.
The King gave, further, London Bridge, with its tolls, to Queen
Eleanor, who allowed it to fall into decay. She then gave it back to
the City.
FitzThedmar here remarks that some of the persons who had sided with
the Earl of Gloucester took to flight, and there were among them some
who, in the time of the late Mayor, FitzThomas, styled themselves the
“Commons of the City.” On the election of a citizen “to attend to
the duties of Sheriff of Middlesex and Warden of London,” the people
clamoured for FitzThomas, who was probably by this time lying in his
grave.
The citizens petitioned, but in vain, for the right of electing their
Mayor and Sheriffs. In the following year, 1266, John Adrian and Luke
de Battencurt were chosen Bailiffs instead of Sheriffs.
Out of the confusion and trouble of the time we can gather that the
trade of London was brought to a standstill; that there were massacres
of Jews; that there were riots in the streets, quarrels between trades,
in one of which as many as 500 men went out armed and fought in the
streets; that the trades continued to combine and to form companies,
but without rule and supervision, so that they claimed work belonging
to other trades, and caused ill-feeling; that there was no order kept
in the wards, and no authority of the Aldermen. The Mayors, during the
period following the Battle of Evesham, were appointed by the King.
Fabyan says that there is uncertainty about this time, some being of
opinion that there were no Mayors but only _custodes_. Fabyan also says
that Thomas FitzThomas was released. He enters his name as Mayor for
1269-70. But his dates do not agree with those of Stow. In the latter
year Prince Edward took the City into his own hands and appointed Hugh
FitzOtho Constable of the Tower and Custos of the City. A few months of
despotic and military rule smoothed the troubled waters of faction and
restored order to the distracted City. The last years of King Henry’s
reign were years of peace and rest. But he had done what he wished to
do—he had deprived the proud City of its wealth, its liberty, and its
rights.
The first phase of the contest between the oligarchy and the populace
comes to an end. The former party is greatly broken up; the wards cease
to be called by the names of their Aldermen.
In December 1269 an order was issued by the King that all those persons
who, on the restoration of the City to him, had withdrawn, should be
proclaimed publicly, and should be forbidden ever to return to the City
under pain of life and limb. Their names were read out in the Guildhall
and afterwards cried in the streets. There were fifty-seven of them;
the list has been preserved by FitzThedmar. All, with a few exceptions,
were craftsmen. Cofferer, Baker, Cook, Goldsmith, Ironworker, Fuller,
Plumer, Broker, Butcher, Armourer, Chaloner, with a few mercers and
others belonging to wholesale trades.
This act of justice accomplished, the citizens were once more granted
the right of electing their Mayor and Sheriffs, but with the increase
of the _firma_ from £300 to £400.
They proceeded to exercise this right, apparently, with sadness and
soberness, and with a compromise. The Mayor was John Adrian, of the
aristocratic party; the Sheriffs were two craftsmen. The following year
Walter Hervey, a man of the people, was Mayor, and two of the other
side were Sheriffs.
The election of the Mayor of the following year is a most interesting
and instructive story. Fabyan, we may observe, puts the election in the
second year of Edward’s reign; Arnold FitzThedmar, one of the Aldermen
concerned, and therefore an eye-witness, assigns it to the last days of
King Henry and the earliest days of King Edward.
On the 28th of October, the Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude, the
citizens met at the Guildhall for the election of the new Mayor. The
Aldermen and the more “discreet” citizens—it is one of them who tells
the tale—proposed the name of Philip le Tayllor. According to usage,
their nominee ought to have been accepted; but the people in the body
of the Hall refused to accept him, and cried out with a great tumult,
“Nay, nay, we will have no one but Walter Hervey,” and against the will
of the Aldermen—one pictures a good deal of hustling and pushing—they
placed their own man in the seat of the Mayor.
It is not surprising that the same kind of accusations, which had
formerly been brought against William Longbeard and Thomas FitzThomas,
were now brought against Walter Hervey. He is said to have persuaded
and promised the people that he would keep them free from all tallages,
extortions, and tolls, and that they believed his word, and followed
him by thousands, even in multitudes, without number. We remember that
50,000 are said to have followed Longbeard. The charge of gaining
over the people by grand promises is very likely true; the demagogue
has always resorted to the same methods of persuasion; in the end to
the detriment or the ruin of the cause. One understands that the more
popular leaders of London between 1190 and 1272 were men who desired,
above all things, to render impossible the burden of unequal taxation,
and to give the commons a voice in the management of their own affairs.
This twofold aim is really one, because it was believed that the
people, if they had the power, would exercise it wisely and justly. The
leaders, however, did not realise that the average man understands by
justice the shifting of his burden to the shoulders of some other man,
and he is quite careless who that other man is.
Hervey, however, had the people with him.
The Aldermen, finding themselves thrust, in this rude way, out of
power, repaired to Westminster to lay the matter before the King’s
Council. They were followed by Hervey himself, accompanied by a vast
multitude of his supporters. The case of the Aldermen was put with much
ability: it was not the loss of their own power which they so much
minded, as the chance that another civil war might be caused through
the unruly pride of the populace.
“The Aldermen and their adherents, on coming before the King’s
Council, as already written, showed unto them, with grievous
complaints, how that this populace by force had violently and unjustly
impeded their election, by those to whom the election of Mayor and
Sheriffs in the City of right more particularly belongs than to any
one else, and has always been wont to belong. They also duteously
besought his lordship the King and his Council, that the King would be
pleased to set his arm and his hand thereto, that so this populace,
calling itself the ‘Commons of the City,’ and excluding the Aldermen
and discreet men of the City, might not upraise itself against his
peace and against the peace of his realm, as had happened in the
time of the Earl of Leicester; namely, when Thomas Fitz-Thomas and
Thomas de Pullesdon had so exalted the populace of the City above the
Aldermen and discreet men of the City, that, when it was necessary so
to do, they could not make such populace amenable to justice; through
which, as a thing notorious to the whole world, a deadly war arose in
England.” (Riley’s edit., FitzThedmar’s _Chronicles of Old London_,
pp. 154-155.)
The people, without caring to answer these arguments, raised the cry:
“We are the Commons. To us belongs the Election. We elect Walter
Hervey.”
It was a time of great anxiety. The King was ill; he was now old—for
that time, very old; the heir was in the Holy Land; it was most
desirable that the peace should be maintained.
The Aldermen went on arguing. The same arguments were used before
the passing of every successive Reform Act. The Aldermen pointed out
that they were the heads, the people being only the inferior members,
arms and legs; the Aldermen were also, by right of office, those who
pronounced judgment in pleas moved within the City; they had a stake
in the country; the populace, on the other hand, for the most part had
neither lands nor houses, were of obscure and lowly origin, followed
humble occupations, were rude and ignorant, and cared nothing about
the City’s welfare. The people, however, kept up their bawling, which
reached the ears of the King on his sickbed.
The Council, therefore, put the matter off. Hervey was told to go away
and to return with no more than ten or a dozen followers. So for that
day he went away.
On the morrow, after dinner, Hervey called all the people together,
and, with them at his heels, went again to Westminster, and there,
setting forth no reason, they kept up the same cry. The Aldermen were
there before them. The Council told both parties that they must agree
upon a Mayor, and that when they were agreed the King would admit him.
But they could not agree; there was no chance of an agreement. So, day
after day, for a whole fortnight, viz. till the 11th of November, the
people became more excited every day, and the Aldermen more dogged, and
the same tumultuous scene was enacted in Westminster Hall.
As for Hervey, he affirmed—very likely he spoke the truth, for the
situation was full of peril, and one could not forget the vanishing of
FitzThomas—that he did not desire to be Mayor for his own sake, but
solely for the love of God and from motives of charity; he was willing
to endure that burden and that labour, that so he might support the
poor of the City against the rich, who sought to oppress them in the
matter of the tallages and expenditure of the City.
It speaks a great deal for the veracity of the historian that one who
stood among the Aldermen and took part in the offices, seeing his
authority and power suddenly taken from him, should have penned these
words without casting a doubt upon the motives which actuated his enemy.
On the 11th of November the Council, who appear to have acted with
strange weakness and irresolution, decided that as they could not
agree, the King would take the City into his own hands and would
appoint a Custos or Warden. Accordingly, Henry de Frowyk, one of the
Aldermen (his Ward was afterwards called Cripplegate) was appointed
Warden.
It was then agreed that each side should appoint five persons, and that
this Committee of ten should elect the Mayor, both sides promising to
abide by the decision.
The death of the King caused this agreement to be set aside. There
was a fear lest the populace should take advantage of the confusion
caused by the absence of the new King; FitzThedmar converts a vague
anxiety into the discovery of a conspiracy against the property of the
Aldermen. The Archbishop of York, with the Earl of Gloucester and other
nobles, met the citizens at Guildhall, and, seeing the enormous number
of Hervey’s followers, exhorted the Aldermen to elect him. They still
refused; they would not, of their own free will, lay down their powers;
they told Gloucester that the matter was referred to the Committee of
ten.
The Earl, however, disregarding this arrangement, ordered a Folk
Mote to be called for the next day at Paul’s Cross, met the Aldermen
separately in the Chapter House, and begged them to yield and to
suffer Hervey to be Mayor for one year, lest trouble should fall upon
the City. They therefore gave way, and Hervey, after taking oath that
he would not aggrieve or allow to be aggrieved, any who had been
against his election, was presented to the people, amid their joyous
acclamations, as their Mayor.
His year of office proved uneventful. FitzThedmar says that he took
bribes from the bakers, so that they might make loaves under weight,
but we need not believe this story; and that he would not allow any
pleading, or very rarely any, in the Hustings of Pleas of Land. “The
reason being that he himself was impleaded as to a certain tenement
which Isabella Bukerel demanded of him by plea between them moved.”
Arnold, we observe, still harbours resentment.
At the following election the Aldermen carried their own man, Henry
Waleys, or le Waleys. He was one of the richest and most important
merchants. He was again Mayor from 1280 to 1283. He had been Mayor of
Bordeaux in 1275.
We have seen how, according to the Chronicler, the craftsmen made
covins and combinations—in other words, trade unions, being exhorted
thereto by Thomas FitzThomas. It appears that when Walter Hervey was
Mayor he confirmed these combinations by Charters of his own granting
regulation of trade for the common benefit. Now we have the first
instance of a blackleg. One of the persons who had obtained, for
his own benefit probably, such a Charter, came before the Mayor and
citizens in the Guildhall with the complaint that a certain person of
his trade was working in contravention of the statutes contained in the
Charter, which he and his trade had obtained. From whom, he was asked,
had they obtained that Charter? From Walter Hervey, when he was Mayor.
“And here it is,” he said, producing a copy of the document. “It is
true,” said Walter Hervey; “I granted that Charter by my authority as
Mayor.” Then arose Gregory de Rokesley, Alderman, and one of the most
“discreet” men in the city. “Such Charters,” he said, “have no force
beyond the Mayoralty of the man who may grant them. Moreover, these
Charters were only made for the benefit of the rich men in every craft,
not for that of the poor: and they lead to the loss and undoing of the
poor men as well as the loss of all other citizens and the realm.”
Whereupon Walter Hervey sprang to his feet and there ensued a warm
and personal discussion. Finally, Walter Hervey retired to St. Peter’s
Church, Cornhill, where he convened the people and exhorted them to
keep their Charters, which he would take care should be enforced; and
the whole of that day and the next he went through the City haranguing
the people, so that the Barons of the Exchequer and the King’s Council
feared a popular tumult. Therefore they sent the Royal command to the
City to take care lest, through the action of the said Walter Hervey
and others, mischief should ensue. The City Magistrates interpreted
this order to mean the arrest of Hervey. Which was done, but on the
surety of twelve men he was released. This happened just before
Christmas. After Christmas, the Mayor called a meeting in the Guildhall
and ordered Hervey’s Charters to be brought to him. A fortnight later
he caused them to be read, and explained that they would lead to the
detriment and ruin of trade; that the Charters carried no weight
and were worthless; that the men of every craft should resume their
former liberty to follow their trade wherever and in whatever way they
pleased; only that their work must be good and true. In other words,
the Charters which Hervey had given them were intended to teach the
people the necessity of order and discipline in order to gain their
rights; and this Mayor led them gently back, under pretence of giving
them liberty, to resume their old dependence. But they had not done
yet with Walter Hervey. It remained to deprive him of his dignity
as Alderman of Chepe. This was done full craftily. The greater part
of the Ward of Chepe consisted of a market-place filled with sheds,
selds, and shops. The sheds are explained by Stow to mean small, open
shops, each with a “solar” or small upper chamber over them. One such
“shed” remained till the other day close to Clare Market.[10] The selds
were wooden warehouses with shops. The tradesmen of this market, the
greatest and most important in the kingdom, were the special friends
of Hervey, his constituents, who had made him Alderman. Whereupon,
in order to get rid of Hervey, these people must also be got rid of.
The King’s Coronation suggested an expedient. Although the traders,
butchers, fishmongers, and those of other callings, had paid large
sums of money for the rent or permission to set up their shops in the
market, the Mayor sent word that in order to clean the place of all
refuse, when the King should ride through Chepe, they must all go and
sell their wares in other places. Then, in the words of the Chronicle—
“On the morrow of Holy Trinity, the Mayor and citizens coming
into the Guildhall to plead the common pleas, there came certain
fishmongers, and more especially those who had been removed from
Chepe. To whom answer was made by the Mayor, that this had been done
by the Council of his lordship the King, in order that there might
be no refuse remaining in Chepe on his arrival there. Walter Hervi,
however, to the utmost of his power, supported the complaints of the
said fishmongers against the Mayor and Aldermen: by reason whereof
a stormy strife arose, in presence of all the people, between the
said Mayor and Walter aforesaid. Hereupon the Mayor, moved to anger,
together with some of the more discreet of the City, went to the
Council of his lordship the King at Westminster and showed him what
had then taken place in Guildhall. Accordingly, on the morrow, when
the Mayor and Aldermen had come to the Guildhall, to determine the
pleas which had been begun on the preceding day, a certain roll was
shown and read before the said Walter and all the people, in which
were set forth many articles as to the presumptuous acts and injuries,
of most notorious character, which the said Walter had committed
while Mayor, against the Commons of the City and in contravention of
his oath: whereupon the said Walter was judicially degraded from his
aldermanry and he was excluded from the Council of his City. Command
was also given to the men dwelling in that aldermanry to choose a fit
and proper man to be Alderman of Chepe in his place and to present him
at the next Court in the Guildhall, which was accordingly done.”
So vanishes the form of Walter Hervey. He takes off his Alderman’s
gown; he steps down among the folk, a plain citizen, and I daresay that
the craftsmen, next day, had forgotten all that he had tried to do for
them. But the memory of those Charters survived.
And so they made a political end of this reformer. To him, however,
belongs the credit of creating or reviving the spirit of union and
incorporation of the trades. I say reviving, because one must not
forget the “adulterine” guilds of Henry the Second’s time; and because,
wherever there was a guild for religious and charitable purposes, the
other trade guild for commercial and practical purposes was not far off.
We have seen how, within forty years from this time, the wards ceased
to be named after their Aldermen and their proprietors. In this
interval there took place a silent revolution, the steps of which it
is now difficult, or even impossible, to follow. The nature of the
revolution is indicated by the rapid rise of the companies in the next
few years. The authority of the aristocratic party was broken, though
not yet destroyed; the shadow of their old power in giving their names
to the wards vanished also. We shall now find the government of London
transferred from the Aldermen to the trades.
The memory of the three early reformers, William Longbeard, Thomas
FitzThomas, and Walter Hervey, should be better known to those who
care about the origin and the history of civic liberties. They appear
to me to bear a striking resemblance to each other. All three belonged
to the aristocratic class; all three deserted their own people, and
were bitterly reviled in consequence; all three surrendered their own
interests; all three were filled with that overwhelming passion for
justice which makes martyrs and carries on a cause. It is to be hoped
that while the first was dragged by the heels to the gallows, while the
second was murdered in a dungeon, while the third was put out of office
and deprived of the right to speak and the power to act, some vision of
the future was vouchsafed to them; some voice whispered in their dying
ears that their life’s work was not lost, but would yet bear fruit in
the coming freedom of the people for whom they had worked and for whom
they suffered.
[Illustration: THE CROWN OFFERED TO RICHARD III. AT BAYNARD’S CASTLE
Reproduced from the picture in the Royal Exchange by permission of the
Artist, Sigismund Goetze, Esq., by whom the copyright is reserved.]
The long continuance of these factions, the civil wars, the disorders
of the last reign, could not fail to produce the worst effects in the
condition of the City. The streets were full of murders, robberies,
house-breaking, and violence of all kinds. The first attempt to restore
order seems to have been the recognition that a strong and permanent
hand was wanted. Accordingly, we find the office of Mayor filled for
twelve years by two men taking the post each for two or three years
together. They were merchants of the aristocratic party; they were
personal friends holding the same views, and those not of a democratic
kind; they were wealthy; they bestowed large benefactions upon the
City; they were trusted by the King. Yet they did not succeed. Loftie
is of opinion that they were too much occupied with their own affairs,
and were compelled to leave much of their proper work to subordinates.
On the other hand, they may have been very great merchants, yet not
good administrators. The earlier pages of Riley’s _Memorials_ are
filled with cases of murder and violence. There were excellent laws
made for the preservation of peace. Nothing could have been better than
the following:—
(1) Every trade to present the names of persons practising that trade,
where they dwell and in what ward. This ordinance proves that all the
trades had their guilds or unions.
(2) The Aldermen to inquire as to lodgers in hostelries.
(3) To provide security for suspected persons.
(4) Two serjeants to stand at each gate to watch persons entering or
leaving the City.
(5) Curfew to be rung in every parish church, taking the time from St.
Martin-le-Grand.
At Curfew all the gates to be closed; the taverns to be shut; no
persons to walk about the streets; six persons to watch in every ward.
(6) No one to cross the river at night.
(7) The serjeants of Billingsgate and Queen Hythe to guard the river,
each with his boat and crew of four men.
Yet, in spite of these regulations, the condition of the City became
worse instead of better. The case of Lawrence Duket in 1284, which
ended in the hanging of seven men of good family, and the burning of
one woman, caused general discontent and murmuring. Finally, Edward
resolved upon taking the conduct of the City into his own hands. The
way in which this was effected shows that the comedy was agreed upon
beforehand, so that everybody’s dignity should be respected.
The Mayor was Gregory de Rokesley. He was ordered by the King’s
Lieutenant to repair with the Aldermen and Sheriffs to the Tower, there
to answer certain questions concerning the condition of the City. He
obeyed, but left behind him in the Church of Allhallows Barking, the
gowns and chains of office, excusing himself on the ground that the
citizens only pleaded or answered pleas within their own boundaries.
He was arrested and kept in the Tower, with the other officers, for a
day or two. Meantime, as the City was technically without a Mayor, the
King used the fact as a pretext for taking it into his own hands. He
did so, appointing Sir Ralph Sandwich as Custos or Warden. The City was
kept under the rule of Sandwich and his successor, Sir John Breton, for
twelve years. They were, in fact, permanent Mayors, who could not be
displaced by the citizens, yet who took the Aldermen into counsel. The
rule of these two Wardens was remarkable for many reforms, including
the definition of the wards, the cleansing of the Walbrook, the
suppression of night fairs, the repair of bridges, the restoration of
order. Trade was carried on freely and prosperously, the trade guilds
had leisure to consolidate themselves, so that they became, long before
they got their Charters, necessary for the business of the City; London
had assumed a new face when, in 1298, Edward gave back the Mayor, and
Henry Waleys once more assumed office. Not that violence altogether
ceased, but that violence was less frequent and more likely to be
punished.
We have seen how the opinions of Lollardy were wide-spread among
the people during the fourteenth century. The history of John of
Northampton and that of his rival, Nicholas Brembre, belong to the
close of that century, and to the conclusion of the struggle between
the employers and the craftsmen.
John was born at Northampton of respectable parentage, as is proved by
the fact that he was received into the Drapers’ Company, always one of
the most exclusive of the City Guilds; he was Alderman in 1376, Sheriff
in 1377, one of the City members in 1378; in 1380 he was a Commissioner
for the erection of some kind of tower; and in 1381 he was Mayor. The
first thing he did as Mayor showed what his opinions were. He took into
his own hands a great part of the duties belonging to the Bishop’s
Court. He caused all those persons, men and women, who had committed
acts of unchastity to have their hair cut short, and then to be carried
in public through the City, preceded by trumpets and drums, for an open
shame, the men being placed in pillory, the women in thewe. A second
offence demanded a similar punishment. For a third offence they were
expelled the City altogether. Next, he cut down the fees of the parish
clergy. A mass for the dead was to be charged no more than a farthing;
a baptism not more than forty pence; marriage not more than half a
mark. Multiply these figures by twenty, at least, to represent modern
values: we have then, a mass sung for five pence; a baptism for £3:
4: 8; and a marriage for very nearly seven pounds. Does the cheapness
of the mass indicate an unbelief in its efficacy? He also signalised
his Mayoralty by a persecution of the fishmongers, whose monopoly he
suppressed. Their offence, one supposes, was the high price at which
they retailed their fish. We must again remind ourselves that quite
one-fourth of the year was a time of fasting, so that it was most
important that fish should be cheap, abundant, and fresh. John not
only took away these privileges from the fishmongers, but he degraded
them. They were forbidden to sell fish in the country at all; they were
forced to sell it in town at a price fixed by the Mayor; and they were
not to be eligible for any office. John was re-elected Mayor in the
following year, 1382-83, which passed quietly. His successor, 1383-84,
was his enemy, Nicholas Brembre, by whom all the reforms of John were
swept away. In January 1384, John was bound over to keep the peace
in the sum of £5000; in the following month he was arrested by the
Mayor. It was said that he went about followed by four hundred of his
adherents; it was also said that he created a tumult. One of his men,
Constantyn, a cordwainer, was hanged for his share in a riot, and John
was sent to Corfe Castle. Thence he was brought to London, tried before
a Council called by the King at Reading, and sentenced to death by
the King. The sentence was commuted, at the Queen’s personal request,
to imprisonment. So he was sent back to Corfe Castle. Then, for some
unknown reason, he was brought to the Tower, and again informed that
he was to be hanged, drawn, and quartered; and again reprieved. He was
then sent to Tintagel Castle, reflecting, no doubt, that while there is
life there is hope, and that he had a friend in John of Gaunt who would
not forsake him.
John of Gaunt did not forsake him. He renewed, from time to time, his
efforts to effect his release; and he promised that John should not
return to London if he were released. Then Nicholas Brembre, Mayor
for four years running, asked the opinion of the Aldermen and Common
Council as to the expediency of releasing this terrible prisoner. They
all agreed that it would be dangerous to let him loose, even if he
lived a hundred miles from the City. In 1389, however, he was allowed
to return, and his property was restored to him. But the Mayor strictly
forbade any discussions as to the quarrel between John of Northampton
and Nicholas Brembre.
To go back for a while and trace the career of Sir Nicholas Brembre
is now necessary. He was a wealthy grocer, son of Sir John Brembre,
a knight and country gentleman of Kent. One of the many examples
which the City affords of the country lad who was not a rustic, but a
gentleman, coming to London to make his fortune (see vol. i. p. 216).
As he purchased estates in Kent in 1372, and became an Alderman in
1376, it seems reasonable to suppose that he was born about the year
1322. He joined the aristocratic party in the City, which strove to
deprive the Craft Companies of any voice in the City, and was as
strenuous a supporter of Courtenay as he was an enemy of John of
Northampton.
In 1377, when Staple, the Mayor, was deposed, Brembre was appointed
in his place. The year after Brembre was charged at the Parliament of
Gloucester by Thomas of Woodstock, the King’s uncle, with negligence
of duty on the occasion of a riot, when—
“Upon Cornhille in London, the men of that vicinity made assault upon
the servants of the said Earl, and beat and wounded them, and pursued
them, when flying to his hostel, and broke and hewed down the doors
of the same with axes and other arms, the said Earl being then within
and lying in his bed, and, by reason thereof, no little alarmed; to
the grievous damage of the said Earl, and so pernicious an example to
the whole realm; and all this, he alleged, had happened through the
inexcusable slothfulness of the said Nicholas, and he requested that
redress should be made to him for the same.” (Riley’s _Memorials_, p.
427.)
Brembre, however, offered a full and complete reply to the charge, and
returned, says the contemporary authority, to his hostel with honour.
Thomas of Woodstock, however, neither forgot nor forgave, although
Brembre gave him a hundred marks by way of conciliation. And there
follows a very pretty passage, showing the spirit with which the City
liberties were regarded:—
“Which transactions being thus related in order before the Mayor and
the Common Council, each one of them gave hearty thanks to the said
Nicholas; knowing for certain that it was for no demerits of his own,
but for the preservation of the liberties of the City, and for the
extreme love which he bore to it, that he had undergone such labours
and expenses. Wherefore, with one accord, by the said Mayor, Aldermen,
and all the rest of the Commoners, it was faithfully granted and
promised, that the City should keep the said Nicholas indemnified as
to the said 100 marks, and also all other expenses by reason of that
matter by him incurred. And that the same might be kept in memory,
orders were given to the Common Clerk that it should thus be entered.”
(Riley’s _Memorials_, p. 428.)
Brembre then became one of the two collectors of customs for the Port
of London, Geoffrey Chaucer being his comptroller. On the rising of the
Commons, Brembre, with Philpot and Walworth, rode to Smithfield with
the King, and was knighted for his services on that occasion.
It was after this that the great struggle between himself, as the
leader of the aristocratic party, and therefore of the great companies,
and John of Northampton, as the leader of the popular cause, took
place. We have seen how John of Northampton acted as Mayor (1381-1383).
In the latter year Brembre was elected Mayor, but it was by force of
arms.
In January 1384 John was arrested, and, as we have seen, his follower,
Constantyn, was hanged by Brembre. In 1386, petitions were presented
to Parliament by ten of the City Companies, charging Brembre with
tyrannical and oppressive conduct, and especially in securing the
re-election by violence. For he filled the Guildhall with armed men,
who ran upon those of the opposite faction with great noise, shouting,
“Kill! kill! lour poursuyvantz hydousement.” Thomas of Woodstock,
mindful of the old grudge, charged Brembre with plotting in favour of
Suffolk. Yet he escaped, and was admitted by the King into his Council.
In November 1387 he was again accused by Thomas of Woodstock with
treason. The other four of the King’s Council were also charged with
treason, viz. the Archbishop of York; Sir Robert Vere, Duke of Ireland;
Michael de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk; and Tressillian, the Lord Chief
Justice.
[Illustration: KING RICHARD HOLDING A COUNCIL OF NOBLES AND PRELATES
From Froissart, vol. iv.]
The King replied that he had taken them into his own protection.
Nevertheless, they all thought it prudent to fly in different
directions.
The King sent for the Mayor. “How many archers and men-at-arms would
the City provide in case of necessity?” The Mayor returned an evasive
reply; he said that the citizens were only soldiers in defence of their
City, as for himself, he begged permission to retire from office.
The King left Windsor and took up his residence in the Tower,
thinking to have the City between himself and the Lords. But Thomas
of Woodstock, now Duke of Gloucester, with the Earls of Arundel,
Nottingham, Warwick, and Derby, hastened to London and demanded
admission into the City. The citizens hesitated; at last, however, they
yielded, and the Lords, with all their array, entered the City. It is
significant of the condition of the City that the Lords offered to
mediate in the trade disputes, but their offer was not accepted.
[Illustration: HENRY OF BOLINGBROKE CHALLENGES THE CROWN]
Meantime Brembre, who had fled into Wales, was captured and brought to
London.
His trial took place as soon as Parliament met. There were thirty-nine
charges brought against him as one of the King’s Council. He asked for
delay to prepare his reply. This being refused, he offered wager of
battle. All the Lords and Commons present threw down their gauntlets,
but it was ruled that it was not a case for the ordeal by battle.
The trial was resumed the following day, the King, who was present,
showing himself entirely in favour of the prisoner. The case was placed
in the hands of a commission of Lords, who brought in a verdict of not
guilty. But they were not going to allow Brembre to escape. They sent
for the Mayor and Aldermen. Thus (I quote R. R. Sharpe):—
“One would have thought that with Nicholas Exton, his old friend and
ally, to speak up for him, Brembre’s life would now at least be saved,
even if he were not altogether acquitted. It was not so, however. The
Mayor and Aldermen were asked as to their _opinion_ (not as to their
knowledge), whether Brembre was cognisant of certain matters, and
they gave it as their _opinion_ that Brembre was more likely to have
been cognisant of them than not. Turning then to the Recorder, the
lords asked him how stood the law in such a case? To which he replied,
that a man who knew such things as were laid to Brembre’s charge, and
knowing them failed to reveal them, deserved death. On such evidence
as this, Brembre was convicted on the 20th February, and condemned
to be executed. He was drawn on a hurdle through the City to Tyburn,
showing himself very penitent, and earnestly desiring all persons
to pray for him. At the last moment he confessed that his conduct
towards Northampton had been vile and wicked. Whilst craving pardon of
Northampton’s son, ‘he was suddenly turned off, and the executioner
cutting his throat, he died.’” (_London and the Kingdom_, vol. i. p.
237.)
[Illustration: RICHARD II. CONSULTING WITH HIS FRIENDS IN CONWAY CASTLE
MS. Harl. 1319.]
The history of Brembre shows that he was a strong man, at least, and
fearless in a time when charges of treason were easily concocted and
ruthlessly applied, when the King, his protector, was young and weak,
and when the other side, which had with them the craftsmen of London,
was strong and well-organised.
In looking upon the long struggle of the craftsmen against their
employers, there are certain considerations which we must not forget.
It was really inevitable that the masters, the employers, would have
the control, such as I have pointed out, in every trade. The men,
quite ignorant of the very rudest principles of political economy,
living from week to week, asking at most nothing but the weekly wage
and cheap food, presently began to question. Why should the masters
rule everything? Why should not the men command their own wages and
their own hours? The questions, which we hear all around us at the
present day, were asked six hundred years ago. The working men formed
combinations, or unions, of their own; they kept on trying to form
these combinations; the number of cases that have been recorded, which
were certainly not the whole number, or anything like it, prove a deep
and widespread discontent, and a sullen resolve of the working men to
take, if possible, the management of their work into their own hands.
They failed, however, and their failure was absolute and complete.
They were brought before the Mayor and Aldermen; their combinations
were dissolved; they were sent back to their company; no union, or
association, or combination of working men was permitted to London
outside the company. Let me take one case in illustration, that of
David Brekenhof. This man, with half-a-dozen others, was brought before
the Mayor, charged with rebellion against employers. They had broken
off from the company; they had left the dwelling-places assigned to
them; they had taken a house in another parish; here they had set up
workshops for themselves; they called assemblies of other working
men; they settled their own wages; they hustled and wounded one of
the masters who went to expostulate with them; they rescued their
companions from arrest when they were seized by the serjeants of the
City. This, you will observe, was a very determined effort, coupled
with assemblies of other working men, and backed by the appeal to arms.
The sentence of the Mayor shows how seriously the danger was regarded.
He did not dare to arouse a spirit of revenge among the working men.
These offenders were left unpunished; they were simply told to give
up their house; to go back to their company, and to resume work in
obedience. And so David Brekenhof and his rebels vanish again and we
hear no more of them. And until the nineteenth century there were no
more combinations of working men in London.
With the ideas of the present day, this refusal to allow the craftsmen
to combine seems tyrannical. We must go back, however, to the ideas
of the thirteenth century. The assumption, the theory, the belief,
that the working classes ought to have any voice in the management of
their own affairs, if it lingered anywhere in London of the thirteenth
century, was a survival of the Folk Mote, the Citizens’ Parliament,
of Paul’s Cross. The Folk Mote still continued; it was used for party
purposes; it had no real power, but it kept alive the memory of power.
It ceased to be held after the thirteenth century; it died out when a
Court of Common Council was formed, and it is significant that when
the old Folk Parliament ceased to meet we hear no more of the revolt of
working men against the companies.
What a citizen like Whittington thought and said was something
like this: “In a great city the governing class should be wealthy,
enlightened, and instructed. It should know the ports of trade, the
demand for imports, the markets for exports, the limits of production,
the figures which are needed to arrive at wages and retail price. It
must also, in an age of artificial courtesy, understand good manners,
and not be afraid to stand before kings. As for the men of the other
class, who have no knowledge, save of a single trade, it is best for
the State that they should be under rule and governance.” And to the
best of his ability, Whittington, who was a stern Magistrate yet a just
man, did keep the people under rule and governance. I believe that the
mediæval masters were, as a rule, and up to their lights, benevolent;
they did look after their people; they gave them wages which allowed a
higher standard of living than was possible for any other working men
in the world; they looked after the old, and they brought up the young.
For myself, I cannot but think that had the craftsmen then obtained
their desire, the result would have been disastrous to the fortunes of
the City. London would have become another Ghent or Bruges; it would
be, now, a city of deserted trade. The time was not yet ready for the
rule of the people by the people. They wanted education, experience,
suffering, before they were able to rule. As yet they understood
nothing, absolutely nothing, about liberties; they wanted nothing but
the control over their own work. I think, in a word, that Whittington’s
views were right for a man of Whittington’s time.
CHAPTER VI
THE CENTURY OF UNCERTAIN STEPS
Whether the Mayor was elected immediately after the concession of the
Commune, or a year or two later, as happened in certain French towns,
matters very little. The point of importance is that even after his
election, and that of the Council, his powers were ill-defined. During
the reign of Richard the First, while he was not even recognised by the
King, we can understand that a wise Mayor would not seek to magnify his
office; it would be safer to allow the Commune to go on quietly, so as
to accustom the King to its existence. This, I take it, was the policy
of Henry FitzAylwin, the first Mayor, during his three-and-twenty
years’ tenure of office.
It may be assumed that the duties and the authority of the Guild
Merchant were at once transferred to the Mayor and his Council. But
what were the duties of that body? What were its powers? What were its
limits? In order to show the uncertainty on this subject, remember that
when Walter Hervey was Mayor he gave Charters to certain trades. It was
not contended that the Mayor had no right to grant Charters, but that
these Charters had no effect after his Mayoralty came to an end. The
powers of the Mayor were as yet uncertain; it was not thought desirable
to limit or to define them too closely. Therefore the right of the
Mayor to grant Charters was not questioned. At the same time, it was no
doubt felt, and quite rightly, that for any one Mayor to grant Charters
without consulting the Aldermen and the more “discreet” citizens might
impose intolerable mischiefs upon the City.
Yet, a hundred years later, we find the trades drawing up ordinances
for the regulation of their own crafts, and praying that they might be
accepted and placed under the protection of the Mayor and Aldermen. In
the meantime, it is obvious, the power and the authority of the Mayor
had been more clearly defined. The statutes placed under his protection
were also placed under the protection of the Court of Aldermen.
One more point to illustrate the uncertainty introduced by the new
order. In the year 1200, according to the book which will form the text
of this chapter, a Council of twenty-five “of the more discreet men of
the City” were sworn to assist the Mayor. Round, as we have seen (p.
18), shows that the number was not twenty-five, but twenty-four; he
has discovered their oath, which did not in any way resemble the oath
of an Alderman; and he has adduced other instances of such a Council.
So that there can be no doubt whatever as to its existence. Now in the
same book, which records its creation and carries the chronicle of
the City down to the year 1273, there is not a single word said about
this Council. We hear of the Aldermen, the more discreet citizens, and
the principal citizens. But not one word about the Council. Either,
therefore, which one can hardly believe, the Council was allowed to
drop out of existence, or, which is much more likely, it was a purely
civic body, not recognised by the Charters and with no legal powers; a
body which acquired its importance from the Mayor of the year, and was
more in evidence a kind of private advisory committee with which the
Mayor could take counsel if he wished, or which he could neglect if he
wished.
The book, which I have called the Text-book of the present chapter,
is the Chronicle printed by the Camden Society from the _Liber de
Antiquis Legibus_, by Arnold FitzThedmar. This book is, of all the
mediæval documents connected with the history of London, perhaps the
most important. For it is the work of a contemporary, one who took part
in the events which he describes, a strong partisan yet fair to his
enemies; evidently a man of the highest honour and principle, and as
much a condemner of the common people as any old Tory of 1832.
His family history shows the ease with which foreigners were admitted
in the twelfth century to reside in, to trade in, and to become
citizens of, the City of London.
His grandfather, named Arnald, or Arnold, or Arnulf, was a merchant
of Cologne. He married one Ode, of the same town, with whom he lived
for some years without children. Hearing, however, of the miracles
performed daily by St. Thomas à Becket, the pair crossed the seas and
made a pilgrimage to the shrine at Canterbury, imploring the favour of
the Saint in the matter of offspring. This done, they went on to visit
the famous City of London. Here the wife found that St. Thomas had
heard, and had granted her prayers. The pair accordingly remained in
London until the child was born. Then they bought a house and remained
altogether in London. They had eleven children, of whom six died young.
One of the surviving daughters was Juliana, who married a native of
Bremen, also a resident merchant in London. The youngest son, Arnold,
was the author of the Chronicle before us. A miraculous dream, he
proudly tells us, accompanied his birth. Most mediæval families were
able to point with pride to miraculous interpositions and dreams. In
this case, as Arnold himself says, the difference between the log of
wood and the slab of marble which formed the dream was known to God
only. And so we may leave it.
Arnold became a man of considerable wealth. He was an Alderman, and
when the City was fined 20,000 marks by Henry and 1000 marks for his
brother, Richard of Almaine, his tallage amounted to 132 marks, or
nearly a hundred and fifth part of the whole. The way of assessment was
as follows:—He first paid four marks and forty pence for his house;
then 20 marks “by inquisition of his neighbours”; then an increase of
five marks; after that an assessment of 100 marks in a lump sum by John
Waleran, Constable of the Tower, and William Hazelbech, commissioner,
for the assessment appointed by the King. After that, half a mark, and
then fifteen shillings on his rent. From this assessment it appears
that the principal part of the fine must have been paid by the wealthy
sort. Arnold had a good deal of trouble over the business, being
annoyed by Walter Hervey and by Henry Waleys in succession for not
having paid enough. However, he obtained protection from King Henry
first and King Edward next.
Let us now proceed to show, from Arnold’s book, the “uncertain steps”
of the City during the century of the new order.
The office of Alderman was passing out of the hereditary stage; there
was a strong sense among the people that the City offices were to be
held during good conduct only. Thus, in 1216, Jacob Alderman (had he
no other designation either of trade or of birth?), being Mayor, was
turned out by the King and another Mayor appointed. We have seen that
in 1233 Symon FitzMary was turned out of his Shrievalty for wasting the
City property. In 1248 the same citizen was deprived of his Aldermanry
for siding with Margery Vyel. In 1254, on account of the escape of a
criminal, the Sheriffs were deprived of office. In 1257 eight of the
Aldermen were deposed for alleged malpractices.
The list of sixty-two names given in Appendix III. rescues from
oblivion almost as many Aldermen of the thirteenth century. If we look
into the names we can pick out with some degree of certainty those
which belong to the aristocratic party, including the old City families
and some of those which had become naturalised. Thus, we have Aswy,
Basing, Blunt, Bukerel, Farndon, or Farringdon, Fulk, Gisors, Hardel,
Haverhill, de Lisle, Renger, Sperling, Rokesley, Tovy, Tidmar (one
Arnold FitzThedmar), Vyel, etc., about one-third of the whole.
We then find certain names without surnames at all, such as Adrian,
Edmund, Geoffrey, Matthew; we are surely justified in concluding that
they belonged to crafts; names such as FitzMary and FitzAlice, which
indicate a mother but not a father; names where the father’s is also a
Christian name, as Thomas FitzThomas, who, we know from FitzThedmar,
belonged to the popular party; names of trades, as Cordwainer, Ferrun,
and Potter. These may all be assigned to the popular party, and they
account for nearly another third. There remain about twenty-five names
which are local, as William de Hereford, of whom it is difficult to
pronounce with any certainty. It is, however, certain that in the
thirteenth century a good deal had been already effected in the
breaking down of the oligarchy and the entrance upon office of the
popular side.
[Illustration: RICHARD II. AND HIS PATRON SAINTS
From the Arundel Society’s reproduction of a contemporary painting at
Walton House.]
There can be little doubt that Henry throughout his whole reign was
bitterly hostile to the City. On the other hand, the City, it must
be acknowledged, with its turbulence and its claims of privilege and
liberty, gave a despotic monarch a great deal of annoyance. Henry’s
principal weapon of retaliation was to take the City into his own
hands, _i.e._ to depose Mayor and Sheriffs, to deprive the Aldermen
of their powers, and to appoint a Warden. In 1245, on a charge of
harbouring a traitor, Henry took over the City, restoring the Charter
after inflicting a fine of £1000. In 1247, during the famous case of
Margery Vyel, the King again took the City into his own hands (see
p. 46). Also in 1249, after the tumult of the populace against the
Abbot of Westminster; in 1254, on the plea of mal-observance of the
assize of bread, really in consequence of the quarrel between Richard
of Almaine and the City; in 1259, when the City refused to pay the
“Queen’s Gold”; in 1257, when the “Green” roll gave an occasion to make
inquisition into the tallages; in 1263, after the Battle of Evesham;
in 1265, the reason not stated; in 1266, after Gloucester had held the
City. This is a considerable list of offences and punishments.
As regards the election to the City offices, there was a great deal of
uncertainty with many changes. In 1265 only one Sheriff was allowed.
In 1267 the City was ordered to elect, and to present to the King, six
persons, from whom the King would choose two for Sheriffs.
The Folk Mote was used throughout this period as a weapon against the
aristocratic party. The popular leaders, William Longbeard, Thomas
FitzThomas, Walter Hervey, all made use of the Folk Mote. The King made
use of it, notably after the Green Roll business, when he sent Maunsell
to persuade the people as he pleased. It was at a Folk Mote in 1241,
and at another in 1259, that the King took formal leave of the City
before going to Gascony. It was charged against Thomas FitzThomas that
he pampered the people, calling them the “Commons of the City,” calling
them together at Folk Mote asking them what was their will without
consulting the Aldermen at all. So that the people leagued themselves
together, broke into the houses of usurers, removed encroachments,
threw open rights of way; and in many other ways showed a rude, but
resolute, desire to obtain justice. Again, in 1271, on the disputed
election of Walter Hervey, the people raised the cry, “We are the
Commons of the City. To us belongs the election of the Mayor.”
With all this apparent tyranny, it is quite certain that the King
always recognised the importance of London. He stood by the City in
their determination not to allow the Thames fisheries to be ruined; he
granted their very reasonable request that Jews, “held in warranty by
Writ of Exchequer,” should plead before citizens as to tenements in
London, and that Jewish “cheirographs,” _i.e._ keepers of “starrs,”
or deeds and covenants of Jews, should be tallaged like any other
people. His brother Richard, although continually at variance with the
City, wrote a most friendly and interesting letter on his reception in
Germany. When the King introduced his new gold coinage, he took the
advice of the City on the measure, and because they were opposed to it,
he made it optional whether the people took the gold coinage or not. He
granted the prayer of the City that pleas of the citizens relating to
debt should be heard in the City only and before the Sheriffs. In 1268,
when the King granted to his son Edward customs on everything that came
into England or went out, and Edward had leased the grant to certain
Italians, the City petitioned the Prince against a continuance of this
burden. The Prince resigned the privilege, and so eased the City.
A great deal more might be extracted from this short chronicle. Enough,
however, has been taken to show the uncertainty of the City during
the first century of the new order: the people always ready to assert
their rights, fancied or real, as the Commons; the Aldermen standing,
as a rule, for the old rights; the King taking offence, often, one
acknowledges, deservedly, and revenging himself by taking the City
into his own hands, by fines, by depositions, by refusals to receive
Mayor or Sheriffs; nothing settled as to the rights and methods of
procedure in elections, or in continuance of office, or in the power
and authority of the Mayor, while of the new Council of twenty-four, as
I have said, not one single word.
In the next chapter we shall have to consider the City under its new
form of government, after the powers of the various offices have been
defined and the manner of election has been settled.
CHAPTER VII
AFTER THE COMMUNE
In the year of our Lord 1419, John Carpenter completed his great
work on the temporal government of the City of London, the _Liber
Albus_. It is in this work that we find the only complete description
of the administration of the City as it was at the beginning of the
fifteenth century, with all the officers, their duties, and their
responsibilities, and the laws which governed the citizens.
The author was Town Clerk from the year 1417 to 1438. He was twice
Member of Parliament for the City; he was executor to Whittington; and
he was buried in the Church of St. Peter, Cornhill.
The book itself, and a copy made in 1582, are preserved in the Crypt of
the Guildhall. Riley, who looked through the copy, says that it abounds
in errors which have never been corrected. His own translation was
made from the original, which has long since lost the purity of aspect
from which it derives its title. Some one has written on the cover the
following Latin lines:—
“Qui ‘Liber Albus’ erat, nunc est contrarius albo,
Factus et est unctis pollicibusque niger.
Dum tamen est extans, istum describite librum;
Ne, semel amisso, postea nullus erit.
Quod si nullus erit—nonnulla est nostraque culpa—
Hei! pretii summi, perdita gemma, Vale!”
The design of the work is thus laid down by John Carpenter himself:—
“Forasmuch as the fallibility of human memory and the shortness of
life do not allow us to gain an accurate knowledge of everything that
deserves remembrance, even though the same may have been committed
to writing, more especially, if it has been so committed without
order or arrangement, and still more so, when no such written account
exists; seeing, too, that when, as not unfrequently happens, all the
aged, most experienced, and most discreet rulers of the Royal City
of London have been carried off at the same instance, as it were, by
pestilence, younger persons who have succeeded them in the government
of the City have, on various occasions, been often at a loss from
the very want of such written information; the result of which has
repeatedly been disputes and perplexity among them as to the decisions
which they should give; it has long been deemed necessary, as well by
the superior authorities of the said City as by those of subordinate
rank, that a volume—from the fact of its containing the regulations
of the City, it might be designated a ‘Repertory’—should be compiled
from the more noteworthy memoranda that lie scattered without order or
classification throughout the books and rolls, as well as the Charters
of the said City. And forasmuch as such design—for some cause unknown,
unless, indeed, it be the extreme laboriousness of the undertaking—has
not been heretofore carried into effect, a volume of this nature, by
favour of our Lord, is now at length compiled, in the Mayoralty of that
illustrious man, Richard Whityngton, Mayor of the said City; that is to
say, in the month of November, in the year of our Lord’s Incarnation
one thousand four hundred and nineteen, being the seventh year of
the reign of King Henry, the fifth of that name since the Conquest;
containing therein not only those laudable observances, which, though
not written, have been usually followed and approved in the said City,
to the end that they may not be lost in oblivion hereafter, but also
those noteworthy memoranda which have been committed to writing, but
lie scattered in disorder in manner before mentioned; that so, by their
being ascertained, the superior authorities of the said City, as well
as those of subordinate rank, may know henceforth with greater accuracy
what in rare and unusual emergencies should be done.”
[Illustration: WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT
From a small stone statue in Guildhall Museum.]
I purpose in this chapter to make such extracts, quotations, and
abridgments from the book as shall serve to explain in general terms,
avoiding the minute details with which the book is crowded, the nature
of the government of the City in the time of Whittington.
The author treats first of the offices of Mayor, Alderman, and Sheriff.
The office of Mayor, he says, ignoring the subtleties of shire law
and commune, was originally called Portgrave or Portreeve; he was
the King’s representative in the City, Escheator, Chamberlain, and
Justiciar, as well as Portreeve. By the Charter of Henry III., the
Barons of the City[11] were confirmed in the Privilege of electing
their own Mayor every year. The election of the Mayor was an event
greatly feared on account of the danger of a riot if the people were
allowed to rush tumultuously into the Guildhall. A custom grew up,
therefore, for the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs to meet together some
days before the election, and so order things as to meet the danger.
They therefore selected certain discreet citizens, so many from each
ward, and summoned them by name to be present at the election on the
Day of St. Edward, King and Confessor, and on that day no one was
allowed in the Guildhall who had not been summoned.
[Illustration: DEATH OF WHITTINGTON
From MS. 1421 in the possession of the Mercers’ Company.]
Disputes arose between the Aldermen and the commoners thus selected,
the latter claiming the nomination of the Mayor. The Aldermen, however,
refused to allow this claim, on the ground that they, too, were
citizens, and therefore entitled to vote. They therefore arrived at a
compromise by which the commoners, one end of the Hall, nominated two
Aldermen who had already served as Sheriffs, and presented their names
to the Mayor and Aldermen at the other end, who proceeded to elect one
of them.
In the early years of the Mayoralty the same Mayor was often
re-elected; the reason why this custom obtained, was that at first the
office brought with it no expenses; when, however, the Mayor had to
give liveries, to conduct ridings, to maintain servants, and to hold
feasts, the expense was generally too great for one man to support for
more than a year. When the practice had become common for the Mayor
to retire after one year, then, and not till then, the Aldermen went
through the form of offering him a second term as a compliment.
“The feast of the Apostles Simon and Jude being now come, about the
tenth hour by the clock, it was the custom for the Mayor, all the
Aldermen—arrayed in cloaks of violet,—and numerous commoners, to meet
together at the Guildhall. Silence and attention being then enjoined
by the Common Crier, in other words, the Serjeant-at-arms, and duly
made, the Recorder, seated at the right hand of the Mayor, announced
to the people that, in conformity with the ancient usage of the City,
upon that day he who was to be Mayor for the then ensuing year was
to take the oath. Then it was the custom also for him to compliment
the outgoing Mayor upon such points as deserved commendation; and the
Mayor, too, if he had anything to say, was duly heard. This done, the
outgoing Mayor vacated his seat, and the Mayor-elect took his place;
the past Mayor, however, sitting next to him, on his left hand. Then
the Common Serjeant-at-arms, holding before him the book with the
Kalendar, with the effigy of Him crucified on the outside thereof,
and he in the meantime placing his hand upon the book, the Common
Clerk read to him the oath that he was about to make on the morrow in
the King’s Exchequer. When he had made the promise and duly kissed
the book, the old Mayor delivered to him the Seal of the Statute
Merchant, together with the Seal of the Mayoralty, enclosed in two
purses. The new Mayor was also heard, if he had anything to say, by
way of entreating the aid of his fellow-Aldermen during his time, as
also the Sheriffs and substantial men of the community, for the better
government of the City.”
On the day after, the Mayor took the oath at the Exchequer:—
“On the morrow of the Feast of the Apostles Simon and Jude, provided
such day was not Sunday—in which case the ensuing Monday was
substituted,—it was the custom for both the new and the past Mayor,
and the Aldermen as well, in a like suit of robes, attended by the
Sheriffs, and as many as were of the Mayor’s livery and of the several
mysteries, arrayed in their respective suits, to meet on horseback upon
the place without the Guildhall about nine by the clock, the sword
being borne upright before the person nominated as Mayor. Departing
thence, they rode together along Chepe, through the gate of Newgate,
and then, turning into Flete-street, passed on to Westminster.
Upon their arrival there, the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs alighted
from their horses, and, preceded by the mace-bearers and Mayor’s
sword-bearer, ascended to the room of the Exchequer, where were the
Chancellor, Treasurer, Keeper of the King’s Privy Seal, and Barons of
the Exchequer. The Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs then standing at the
Bar, the Recorder stated how that the City of London, in accordance
with its ancient customs and liberties, had chosen N. as Mayor for the
year then next ensuing, requesting the Barons, on behalf of the City,
to accept the individual so elected, who then and there appeared in
person. Answer being made by the chief Baron, or his representative,
that it was their pleasure so to do, the book was presented to the
Mayor, placing his hand upon which, he was charged with the same oath
that he had made at the Guildhall.”
This oath is given in full in _Liber Albus_, and we may compare it with
that of an Alderman on p. 78.
“You shall swear, that well and lawfully you shall serve our lord the
King in the office of the Mayoralty in the City of London, and the same
City you shall surely and safely keep to the behoof of the King of
England, and of his heirs, Kings of England; and the profit of the King
you shall do in all things that unto you belong to do, and the rights
of the King, in so far as unto the Crown they belong within the said
City, you shall lawfully keep. You shall not assent unto the decrease,
or unto the concealment of the rights or of the franchises of the King;
and where you shall know the rights of the King or of the Crown, be it
in lands, or in rents, or in franchises, or in suits, to be concealed
or withdrawn, to your utmost power you shall do to repel it; and if
you cannot do it, you shall tell it unto the King, or unto them of his
Council, of whom you shall be certain that they will tell it unto the
King. And that lawfully and rightfully you will treat the people of
your bailiwick, and right will do unto every one thereof, as well unto
strangers as to denizens, to poor as to rich, in that which belongeth
unto you to do; and that neither for highness, nor for riches, nor for
promise, nor for favour, nor for hate, wrong you shall do unto any one;
nor the right of any one shall you disturb, nor shall you take anything
whereby the King may lose, or by which his right may be disturbed. And
that in all things which unto the Mayor of the said City it pertaineth
to do, as well in the regulation of victuals as in all other things,
well and lawfully you shall behave yourself.—So God you help, and the
Saints.”
This done, it was the custom for the chief Baron of the Exchequer, on
behalf of the King and the Lords, to charge the Mayor in especial to
preserve peace and tranquillity in the said City; and then, to the
best of his ability, so to exercise surveillance over the sellers
of all kinds of provisions, as not to allow the public to suffer
from excessive prices. And after this, it was the usage for the late
Mayor there to present himself as ready to account for his office as
Escheator; whereupon he also was sworn to render a good and faithful
account of the said office, appointing there such person as he might
think proper to act as his attorney in passing his accounts.
The Mayor also and Aldermen, in behalf of the City, appointed a member
of the Exchequer as attorney of the said City, to challenge and claim
their liberties, as and when necessity might demand; after which, upon
receiving leave from their lordships, they withdrew. In like manner
also, in the Common Bench, they appointed a member of that place to act
as attorney for the City. But in the King’s Bench it was the custom
for them to appoint two attorneys, jointly and severally, to claim the
liberties and ancient customs of the said City, as and when necessity
might demand. Which done, they returned, the commons preceding on
horseback in companies, arrayed in the suits of their respective
mysteries. Those, however, who were members of the mystery to which the
Mayor belonged, as also those who were of his livery, proceeded next
before the Mayor. No person, however, moved so close to the Mayor but
that there was a marked space between, while the serjeants-at-arms,
the mace-bearers, and his sword-bearer, went before him, with one
Sheriff on his right hand, and the other on his left, bearing white
wands in their hands. The Recorder and the other Aldermen followed
next in order, and accompanied him through the middle of the market of
Westchepe to his house, after which they returned home, as many, that
is, as had not been invited to the feast.
[Illustration: CROSSBOWMAN]
On the same day, after dinner, it was the custom for the new Mayor to
proceed from his house to the Church of Saint Thomas de Acon, those of
his livery preceding him; and after the Aldermen had there assembled,
they then proceeded together to the Church of Saint Paul. Upon arriving
there, at a spot, namely, in the middle of the nave of the Church,
between the two small doors, it was the custom to pray for the soul
of Bishop William, who, by his entreaties, it is said, obtained from
his lordship, William the Conqueror, great liberties for the City of
London; the priest repeating the _De Profundis_. They then moved on
to the churchyard, where lie the bodies of the parents of Thomas,
late Archbishop of Canterbury; and there they also repeated the _De
Profundis_, etc., in behalf of all the faithful of God departed, near
the grave of his parents before mentioned. After this, they returned
through the market of Chepe (sometimes with lighted torches, if it
was late) to the said Church of Saint Thomas, and there the Mayor and
Aldermen made an offering of one penny each; which done, every one
returned to his home, and the morning and the evening were one day.
We come next to the office of Alderman. The Aldermen had of old not
only the style and title of Barons, but were buried with baronial
honours:—
“For in the church where the Alderman was about to be buried, a
person appeared upon a caparisoned horse, arrayed in the armour of
the deceased, bearing a banner in his hand, and carrying upon him the
shield, helmet, and the rest of his arms, along with the banner, as
is still the usage at the sepulture of lords of baronial rank. But by
reason of the sudden and frequent changes of the Aldermen, and the
repeated occurrence of pestilence, this ceremonial in London gradually
died out and disappeared. From this, however, it is evident what high
honour was paid to the Aldermen in ancient times.”
The election of an Alderman was after the manner following:—
“It is the custom for the Mayor to proceed to the Ward that is vacant,
and, at the place where the Wardmote of such Ward is usually held,
to cause to be summoned before him by the bedel all the Freemen who
inhabit such Ward, should he think proper: and there forthwith, if
they are willing and able, or else on a given day, the Alderman is
to be elected by the greater and more substantial portion of them,
provided always, that fifteen days do not expire before making such
election; for in such case, the Mayor is bound, and has been wont,
with the counsel of his fellow-Aldermen, to appoint some man who is
honest, rich, and circumspect, to be Alderman of such Ward. It is the
duty also of the men of such Ward, when they have made their election,
in manner already stated, to present the person so elected to the
Mayor and Aldermen for admission.
And if the person elected, after he has been admitted, shall refuse
to accept or undertake such charge, by custom of the City he shall
lose his freedom; and he is not to be readmitted to the same without
making a notable fine and ransom. But if the person so elected is
duly admitted, in such case he shall take the oath that is entered
in the Second Part of Book III. of the present volume, folio 125;
provided always, that if the Mayor and Aldermen, for some notable
cause, shall not think proper to admit the person elected, the Ward
shall proceed again to make a more suitable election. But if the
Wardsmen shall refuse to do this, or if, from malevolence and pride
of heart, they shall elect some other person whom the Court, taking
into consideration the advantage and honour of the City, cannot so
far demean itself as to accept, it is the usage for the Mayor and
Aldermen, as in the former case, after waiting fifteen days, to elect
and admit another.” (_Liber Albus_, pp. 35-36.)
This is the form of oath taken by the newly elected Alderman:—
“You shall swear, that well and lawfully you shall serve our lord the
King in the City of London, in the office of Alderman in the Ward of N,
wherein you are chosen Alderman, and shall lawfully treat and inform
the people of the same Ward of such things as unto them pertain to do,
for keeping the City, and for maintaining the peace within the City;
and that the laws, usages, and franchises of the said City you shall
keep and maintain, within town and without, according to your wit and
power. And that attentive you shall be to save and maintain the rights
of orphans, according to the laws and usages of the said City. And that
ready you shall be, and readily shall come, at the summons and warning
of the Mayor and ministers of the said City, for the time being, to
speed the Assizes, Pleas, and Judgments of the Hustings, and other
needs of the said City, if you be not hindered by the needs of our lord
the King, or by other reasonable cause; and that good lawful counsel
you shall give for such things as touch the common profit in the same
City. And that you shall sell no manner of victuals by retail; that
is to say, bread, ale, wine, fish or flesh, by you, your apprentices,
hired persons, servants, or by any other; nor profit shall you take of
any such manner of victuals sold during your office. And that well and
lawfully you shall (behave) yourself in the said office, and in other
things touching the City.—So God you help, and the Saints.” (_Liber
Albus_, p. 267.)
Formerly, says the author, the wards were called after their Aldermen,
as the Ward of Anketill de Auvern, the Ward of Henry le Frowyk, and
others; but afterwards the Aldermen were called after their wards.
The person of the Alderman was sacred. If a man struck an Alderman he
had his hand struck off; if he defamed an Alderman he was pilloried and
imprisoned.
The Alderman held his office for life. He was the magistrate, almost
despotic, of his own ward; he had his officers or serjeants to attend
him; and he presided at the Court called the Ward Mote, by which
inquiry was made into the condition of the ward.
The Sheriffs were elected on the Day of St. Matthew, the 21st of
September.
“As concerning the election of sheriffs,—the Mayor, Recorder, Aldermen
and Commons, are to be assembled on the day of Saint Matthew the
Apostle [September 21], in such manner as is ordained on the election
of the Mayor; and in the first place, the Mayor shall choose of his
own free will, a reputable man, free of the City, to be one of the
Sheriffs for the ensuing year; for whom he is willing to answer as
to one-half of the ferm of the City due to the King, if he who is so
elected by the Mayor shall prove not sufficient. But if the Mayor
elect him by counsel and with the assent of the Aldermen, they also
ought to be answerable with him. And those who are elected for the
Common Council, themselves, and the others summoned by the Mayor for
this purpose, as before declared, shall choose another Sheriff, for
the commonalty; for whom all the commonalty is bound to be answerable
as to the other half of the ferm so due to the King, in case he shall
prove not sufficient. And if any controversy arise between the commons
as to the election, the matter is to proceed and be discussed in such
manner as is contained in the article upon the ‘Common Council’ in the
13th Chapter of this First Book.
And if any one of those then chosen to be Sheriffs shall refuse or
absent himself, so as not to be ready at the Guildhall in the Vigil
of Saint Michael next ensuing, at ten by the clock, there to receive
his charge, there shall be levied forthwith from the goods, lands,
and tenements of him who so absents himself, one hundred pounds;
one-half to the use of the Chamber, and the other half to the use of
him who shall be then suddenly elected and charged by reason of such
default. And if the second person elected shall refuse the charge, all
his goods, lands, and tenements, shall be arrested, for all expenses
touching that office.
And the old Sheriffs shall come to the Guildhall, at eleven by the
clock at the very latest, and shall deliver to the Mayor (at the
latest, at the Mayor’s general Court that is held after the Feast of
the Epiphany) all records of pleas touching freeholds pleaded before
them in their time, with all other memoranda touching recoveries
suffered by any person, under a penalty of one hundred shillings,
to be levied from each of them and to be paid to the use of the
Chamber. To do which, the Mayor shall warn them the day on which they
shall receive their charge. And then the Mayor shall deliver the
Cocket[12] to such Sheriff as he himself shall have chosen, and the
records to the Chamberlain for safe custody.” (_Liber Albus_, Riley’s
translation, pp. 39-40.)
The following was the oath of the Sheriffs:—
“You shall swear, that you shall be good and true unto N, the King of
England, and his heirs, and the franchise of the City of London you
shall save and maintain, within the City and without, according to
your power; and that well and lawfully you shall keep the Counties of
London and of Middlesex, and the offices which unto the same Counties
appertain to be done, well and lawfully you shall do, according to
your wit and power; and that right you shall do as well to poor as to
rich; and that no good custom you shall break, or evil one maintain.
And that the assizes of bread, and of ale, and all other assizes which
unto you pertain, within the franchise of the City and without, well
and lawfully you shall keep and shall cause to be kept. And that the
judgments and executions of your Court you shall not delay without
reasonable cause, nor any right disturb; and that the Writs which unto
you shall come, touching the state and the franchise of the City, you
shall not return before you have shown them unto the Mayor, for the
time being, and unto the Council of the City, and of them have advice.
And that ready you shall be, at reasonable warning of the Mayor, for
keeping and maintaining the peace and state of the City. And that all
other things which pertain unto your office and the keeping of the said
Counties, lawfully you shall do, by you and yours, and the said City
shall keep from harm, according to your wit and power. And that the
County of Middlesex or the keeping of the Gaol of Newgate you shall
not let to ferm.—So God you help, and the Saints.” (_Liber Albus_, pp.
266-267.)
When the Sheriffs were sworn all their servants had to take oath: their
serjeants, clerks, valets, bailiffs of the customs and of Middlesex,
and the gaoler of Newgate and his clerk; and the same day the Sheriffs
were to go to Newgate and to take over the prisoners there; observe, by
the terms of their oath, that they were not allowed to let the gaol “to
ferm” nor the County of Middlesex.
Other officers were the Recorder, who was to be, on appointment, a
barrister of less than sixteen years’ standing, the Chamberlain, the
Common Serjeant-at-Law, and the Common Clerk. And there were inferior
officers, clerks and serjeants.
Leaving the officers, John Carpenter goes on to show how the Barons
and the community must behave towards the King and his Justiciars: in
other words, he speaks of the method of receiving the King’s Writs and
the Pleading of the Pleas of the Crown. Let us pass over these points,
which are curious to the antiquary, and come to the methods of hearing
criminal cases:—
“It is to be observed that, in accordance with the ancient liberties
and customs of the City of London, there are three purgations in Pleas
of the King’s Crown, by means whereof persons appealed, charged, and
accused, are in duty bound to acquit themselves. The first of these
is employed in cases of homicide or murder; such purgation being
called the ‘Great Law.’ The second kind of purgation bears reference
to mayhem, and is known as the ‘Middle Law.’ The third purgation
is employed in cases of assault, battery, rapine, wounding, blows,
bloodshed, and other injuries of a like nature, inflicted at the season
of Our Lord’s Nativity and in the weeks of Easter and Pentecost; such
purgation being styled the ‘Third Law.’
When a person is bound to clear himself by the Great Law, the mode of
proceeding according to such law is as follows:—He who is so appealed,
charged and accused, has to make oath in his own behalf six times, in
his own proper person; to the effect, that is to say, on each occasion,
that he is innocent and guiltless of felony and breach of the peace of
his lord the King, as also of all crime so laid to his charge,—‘So God
may help him and those holy Gospels.’ After this, six men are to make
oath that, to the best of their conscience and understanding, the oath
that he has so sworn is a sound oath and a safe,—‘So God may help them
and those holy Gospels.’ And this proceeding shall be repeated until
the number of six-and-thirty jurors is exhausted; due care being taken
that on each occasion the person accused makes oath first, in form
before stated, and then, after him, six men, until the number before
mentioned is completed.
[Illustration: THE MORNING OF AGINCOURT
After the picture by Sir John Gilbert in the Guildhall Art Gallery. By
permission of the Artist.]
In selecting these six-and-thirty men, the procedure, according to
the ancient usage of the City of London, is wont to be, and should
be, as follows:—The person accused being absent, eighteen men must be
chosen from the East side of Walebroke and eighteen men from the West
side of Walebroke, persons who are not kinsmen, cousins, or members
of the family of the accused, nor yet connected with him by marriage
or in any other way, but only trustworthy men of the franchise of the
City. The names of these persons are to be read to the accused; who,
upon hearing them, shall show unto the Mayors and Barons of the City
the names of such among them as he holds suspected. And if he shall
show reasonable cause against them, the names of such persons shall be
struck out of the written list, and others shall be chosen in their
stead, to complete the aforesaid number and duly to be read before
him. And when the accused shall be content with the names so entered,
and shall have put himself upon them for clearing himself of the said
accusation, then, by counsel of the City, he shall appear before the
Justiciars of his lordship the King, at a certain time and place, to
wage and make his law. But in accordance with the ancient usage of the
City, such person shall have respite for making his law for a term of
forty days at the least complete. And the names of the six-and-thirty
men so chosen shall be delivered unto the Justiciars of his lordship
the King.
In making the Middle Law, the procedure is as follows:—The person,
namely, who is charged and appealed of mayhem has to take oath in
his own behalf three times, in his own proper person; to the effect,
that is to say, on each occasion, that he is innocent and guiltless
of that felony, and of breach of the peace of his lord the King, as
also of all crime so laid to his charge,—‘So God may help him and
those holy Gospels.’ After him also, six men are to make oath that the
oath that he has so sworn is a lawful oath and a safe, to the best
of their conscience and understanding,—‘So God may help them and the
holy Gospels.’ And this proceeding shall be repeated until the number
of eighteen jurors is exhausted; due care being taken that on each
occasion the person accused makes oath first, in form before stated,
and then, after him, six men, until the number before mentioned is
completed.
In selecting such eighteen men, the same procedure is to be observed
as is set forth above in all matters relating to the Great Law before
mentioned.
In making the Third Law, the procedure is as follows:—A person accused
of assault, battery, rapine, wounding, blows, bloodshed, and other
injuries of a like nature, inflicted at the holy seasons before named,
has to make oath once in his own behalf, in his own proper person; to
the effect that he is innocent and guiltless of the misdeed laid to his
charge, and of breach of the peace of his lord the King at the holy
seasons above mentioned,—‘So God may help him and those holy Gospels.’
After him also, six men are to make oath that the oath that he has so
sworn is a lawful oath and a safe, to the best of their conscience and
understanding,—‘So God may help them and those holy Gospels.’ And be
it known, that these six men should be chosen of the venue in which
the person so accused is dwelling; provided always, that they are not
cousins, or kinsmen, or members of his family, nor yet connected with
him by marriage, or in any other way, but only trustworthy men of that
venue and of the franchise of the City. And the names of such persons
shall be read to the accused, etc., as above stated under the Great
Law.”
The old custom of holding the Folk Mote was still kept up though the
Common Council now performed its most important functions:—
“There are three principal Folkmotes in the year. One is at the
feast of Saint Michael, to know who shall be Sheriff, and to hear
the charges given. The second is at Christmas, to arrange the Wards.
The third is at the feast of Saint John (24th June), to protect the
City from fire, by reason of the great drought. If any man of London
neglects to attend at one of these three Folkmotes, he is to forfeit
forty shillings to the King. But, by the Law of London, the Sheriff
ought to enquire after him whom he shall think proper, that is to say,
whether he is there or not. And if there be any one who is not there,
and he is there enquired after, such person ought to be summoned to
the Hustings, if he is bound to abide by the law of the city. If the
good man says that he was not summoned, the same must be known through
the bedel of the Ward. If the bedel says at the Hustings that he was
summoned, even where it is proved that the bedel has no other witness,
no witness needs he have, save the great bell that is rung for the
Folkmote at St. Paul’s.”
The most important Court was that called the Hustings:—
“Be it made known, that all lands, and tenements, rents and services,
within the City of London and the suburbs thereof, are pleadable at
the Guildhall in the same city, at the two Hustings; of which the one
Hustings is called ‘Hustings of Pleas of Land,’ and the other Hustings
is called ‘Hustings of Common Pleas’; which Hustings are holden in the
said Guildhall, before the Mayor and Sheriffs of the same city, upon
the Monday and Tuesday in each week; that is to say, upon Monday, for
demanding appearance of demandants, and for the award of nonsuits, and
the allowing of essoins; and upon Tuesday, for the award of defaults,
and for pleading—certain seasons and Feast-days excepted, as well
as other reasonable causes; at which times no Hustings can be held,
by usage of the city aforesaid. It should also be known, that the
Hustings of Pleas of Land must be held one week apart by itself, and
that of Common Pleas the next week apart by itself, upon the days
aforesaid; but the enrolments and titles of the said Hustings make
mention of Monday only.”
I am indebted to Dr. R. Sharpe’s Introduction to his _Calendar of
Wills_ for the following additional notes on the “Court of Husting.”
(1) To begin with, it was the single institution which the Saxon
borrowed from the Dane. “Husting” = Hus-thing, the cause or case
pleaded in the House, instead of in the open air.
The Court of Husting is mentioned in the Laws of Edward the Confessor
as the place where the Court of the King is held every Monday. It is
the oldest Court of record in the City, and at one time constituted the
sole court for settling disputes between citizen and citizen. After the
establishment of the Mayor’s and Sheriff’s Court for the settlement of
actions merely personal, all actions affecting laws were heard in the
Court of Husting. It was a Court of appeal for the Sheriff’s Court,
while appeal from the decisions might be heard by certain commissioners
at St. Martin-le-Grand. There was, after this, final appeal to the
House of Lords.
The Court sat for a long time on Monday only. Thus it became the
custom to sit on Monday for purposes of demanding the appearance of
defendants, the award of nonsuits and the allowing of essoins, _i.e._
excuses for non-appearance. The sitting of Tuesday was for the award
of defaults and for pleading. Eventually the Monday sitting was
discontinued.
During the fairs of Boston and Winchester, and during harvest-time, the
Court did not sit.
The judges in the Court of Husting were the Mayor and Sheriffs, the
Recorder sitting as assessor for the examination of witnesses and for
preliminary judgment. As the Court could not be held in the absence of
the Mayor, and great inconvenience was sometimes so caused, an Act was
passed in 1584 providing that, if the Lord Mayor was prevented from
attending by sickness, any Alderman who had passed the Chair might act
for him. But as early as the thirteenth century it had become a custom
for any Aldermen to be present in the Husting and to act as Judges.
It was the custom for the officer who summoned the Aldermen to the
Court to show his respect for them and for the Court by riding a horse
valued at a hundred shillings at least.
The Town Clerk was Registrar.
The Counsel employed in the Court were the four City pleaders; the
attorneys were those of the Mayor’s clerk.
The reader is referred to Dr. Sharpe’s pages for details of the Common
Pleas and Writs used in this Court.
Aliens could be admitted to the freedom of the City only by this Court.
Disputes as to building were decided by this Court.
It was even a place for public penance. Perjury was punished by
imprisonment until the next Husting, when the offender was placed upon
a high stool before all the people while his crime was read aloud.
After this, he was set at liberty.
In this Court deeds and wills were enrolled.
In this Court land was conveyed by a method “described by Blackstone
as a kind of real contract, whereby the bargainer for some pecuniary
consideration bargains and sells, that is, contracts to convey the land
to the bargainee, and becomes by such bargain a trustee for, or seised
to the use of the bargainee, and then the Statute of Uses completes the
purchase; in other words the bargain first vests the use, and then the
statute vests the possession.” (_Calendar of Wills_, i. 23.)
Probate of Will naturally belonged to the Court which enrolled Wills.
The Court undertook the guardianship of orphans. The citizen of London
had the right of devising part only of his property; a certain part
of it going, with or without his wish, to his widow and children.
This restriction was only removed by the 2nd Act of George the First.
The widow, for instance, by the custom of the City, was entitled to
one-third of his estate, the children to another third, the residue was
at the free disposal of the testator and was known as the legatory or
the dead man’s portion.
Among the wills enrolled in the Court of Husting, Sharpe mentions the
following:—
“1. John de Kyrkeby, Bishop of Ely, who endowed his see with houses,
vines, and gardens situate at Holborn, whose gift is remembered at
the present day by the names of Ely Place, Vine Street, and Kirby
Street, and whose gardens, part and parcel of the gift, call to mind
the well-known lines put into the mouth of the Duke of Gloucester by
Shakespeare (_Richard III._, Act iii. sc. 4):—
‘My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn,
I saw good strawberries in your garden there.’
2. William de Farndon, Alderman of Farringdon Ward, to which he gave
its name, and Nicholas [le Fevre?], who married his daughter, took his
name, and became Alderman of his Ward, which he afterwards disposed
of by will to John de Pulteneye, although the latter appears never to
have been _de facto_ Alderman of the Ward.
[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF HEADING OF ACCOUNT, 1575-1576, SHOWING
COOPER AT WORK
From _Coopers’ Company Illustrations_.]
3. William de Elsing, the founder of Elsing Spital, on the site of
which was afterwards built Sion College with its almhouses, one of the
few picturesque relics of Old London which till lately remained to us,
but now vanished.
4. William Walworth, whose prowess when Mayor against the rebel Wat
Tyler at Smithfield is sufficiently well known.
5. Sir John Philpot, who was appointed joint treasurer with Walworth
for receiving the subsidy granted to Richard II. on his accession, and
who received the honour of knighthood with Walworth, Nicholas Brembre,
and others.
6. John Northampton and Nicholas Exton, so long rivals of one another,
the latter supporting Nicholas Brembre in his endeavour to sustain the
monopoly enjoyed by the free fishmongers of the City, in opposition to
the former.
7. Richard Whityngton, four times Mayor of London, whose munificent
gifts and charitable acts need not be recorded here, as they are
already household words.
8. John Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s, Sir Andrew Judde, Sir Andrew
Laxton, and many others whose names are associated with the cause of
education, not only within the City of London, but in all parts of the
country.
9. Sir Martin Bowes, the wealthy and charitable goldsmith, whose
almhouses at Woolwich still bear witness to his generosity, and who
bequeathed to the Mayor of the City of London for the time being and
his successors a goodly cross of gold set with pearls and precious
stones to hang at the collar of gold worn by the Mayor at high feasts,
‘as mentioned in the Repertory.’
10. And, lastly, Sir Thomas Gresham (not to mention numerous others),
the founder of the College within the City which still bears his name,
and to whose munificence the merchants of the City were indebted for
their first bourse, or Royal Exchange.” (_Calendar of Wills_, ii. 2-4.)
The Courts of the City, therefore, were the Folk Mote and the Court of
Husting, which gave the City a sense of unity though as yet there was
no collective governing body and no Head or Chief to stand for the City.
There was, next, the Ward Mote, for the local business of each ward.
“The Wardmote is so called as being a meeting together by summons of
all inhabitants of a Ward, in presence of its head, the Alderman,
or else his deputy, for the correction of defaults, the removal of
nuisances, and the promotion of the well-being of such Ward. The
meetings that we call ‘Wardmotes,’ the Romans called _plebiscita_; the
same in fact that were styled _folkesmot_ by the Saxons in ancient
times. The Aldermen were in the habit also, by virtue of warrants by
the Mayor for the time being to them directed, to hold their Wardmotes,
twice at least, or oftener, in the year; on which occasions enquiry
used to be made as to the condition and tranquillity of the Ward, and
such defaults as were presented were corrected by the Alderman, as
hereafter will be shown.
The process of holding a Wardmote in London has customarily been as
follows:—The Alderman, after receipt of the warrant, is to command
his bedel to summon all such men as are householders, as well as all
hired servants, in his Ward, to appear before him at a certain day and
hour on the morrow of such summons, in a certain place within the same
Ward, for the purpose of holding such Wardmote. These names, after
the persons have been duly summoned, the bedel is to have entered
in a certain roll, those of the freemen, namely, of the City who
dwell in that Ward, by themselves, and those of the hired servants
and non-freemen, by themselves. And when at the hour appointed they
have duly met together, the Alderman having taken his seat with the
more opulent men of the Ward, each in his proper place, the clerk of
the Alderman is to enjoin the bedel, in behalf of such Aldermen, to
command attention; which done it is the clerk’s duty to read aloud the
warrant before mentioned, and then to read to the bedel the names that
are entered in the roll; while the bedel in his turn proclaims aloud
that every person who shall not, there present, answer to his name,
and shall make default therein, shall be put down and amerced in the
sum of four pence at the least. After this, the bedel is to present
to the Alderman a panel, arrayed by the Constables of the Ward, of
those reputable men of such Ward by whom Inquisition should be made;
which array, if the Alderman shall deem it expedient, he shall be at
liberty to amend. This done, the jurors are to have read to them all
the articles touching such Wardmote. After this, a certain day for
making their presentment is to be given by the Alderman to the jurors.
On which day the jurors are to present their verdict indented, one part
of it to remain in possession of the Alderman, and the other with the
Ward. It is the duty also of the Alderman to present his part to the
Mayor, at the sitting of his next General Court; to the end that, after
it has been seen and enquired if there is any matter the correction of
which pertains unto the Mayor and City, the aforesaid indenture may be
redelivered to him, to be acted upon in other respects, etc.
And at the said Wardmote, there ought to be elected by the Alderman
and reputable men of the Ward, as also by the jurors, the Scavagers,
Ale-conners, Bedel, and other officials; who, at the General Court
before mentioned, shall take the oaths befitting their respective
offices. The Alderman also used to be specially certified by the bedel
as to the names of such hostelers, brewers, bakers, cooks, victuallers,
and auctioneers as dwelt within the Ward. Bakers also were to have
their stamps there, the impressions of which were to be entered upon
the Alderman’s paper; for doing which, every baker had to pay the
Alderman four pence, unless it so happened that he had previously paid
for an impression being taken of his stamp before the same Alderman
of the Ward, no change of Alderman having taken place. It was the
usage also for the Aldermen to seal the measures and weights in their
respective Wards, and to condemn such as were not sealed, receiving
a remuneration for such sealing to their own proper use, in the same
way that the City Chamber now receives it. For every Ward had its own
measure, made of brass, and corresponding with the royal standard of
the City. At such Wardmote also, those persons who are not free of the
City, and who have not previously been sworn there to that effect,
ought to be put upon frank-pledge, notwithstanding that in other Wards
they have been already received therein; on which occasion they are to
take the oath for persons about to be admitted to frank-pledge. Every
person also who is about to be so received is to give one penny to the
clerk for his entrance; and if any such person shall absent himself at
such Wardmote, he shall pay four pence to the Alderman; unless indeed
such person be a Knight, Esquire, female, apprentice-at-law, or clerk,
or some other individual who has not a permanent abode in this City.
The Alderman ought also, in his own person, to supervise and correct
all defaults and nuisances presented by the jurors at the Wardmote
aforesaid, unless perchance any matters of difficulty should arise,
and of a nature bearing reference to the Chamber; matters of which
description the Mayor and Chamberlain, aided by the Sheriffs and other
officials, shall take in hand. Also, if the Alderman shall find the
officers under him remiss or negligent, he shall warn them to amend
their conduct; which if they neglect to do, he shall reasonably punish
and chastise them, or else report the same to the Mayor, whose duty it
is to provide a condign remedy for the same.” (_Liber Albus_, Riley’s
translation, pp. 32-35.)
The Common Council—of which we have seen the beginning in the election
of the Twenty-four—was now a fully organised body with definite duties,
and methods of procedure laid down and established.
“The manner of holding a Common Council is as follows:—The day before
the meeting thereof, the Mayor and Aldermen are to cause summons to be
made by the serjeants of the Chamber, for sixteen, twelve, eight, or
four (according as the Ward is great or small) of the wisest and most
wealthy persons of each Ward to appear on the morrow at the Guildhall;
and [further, to give notice] that no one is to appear unless summoned,
or presume to be present at such Council, under pain of imprisonment,
according to ancient usage, as also, by recent enactment, under a
certain penalty and chastisement named in an ordinance made in the
Mayoralty of Nicholas Wottone. All the commoners, too, that are
summoned are to be called over one by one, by a serjeant of the Chamber
standing aloft; and as to those who make default, they are to be noted
by a clerk of the Chamber in a roll which he holds in his hands, in
which are entered the names of those who have been summoned.
And as to those who duly appear, they shall then form a congregation;
and if any matter of great difficulty or doubt shall arise, upon
which they cannot agree, they shall be severally examined by the
Serjeant-at-Law of the Common Clerk and of the Common Serjeant-at-Arms,
upon the oath by which they are bound unto the City, etc. And observe,
that the business of the City is not to be delayed for the arrival of
the men of a Ward or two, supposing that they have been duly summoned;
but it must be proceeded with, the presence of the persons so absent
not being waited for. Every one, too, of the persons so summoned who
does not appear is to be amerced in the sum of two shillings on each
occasion, etc.
The oath of the men elected to the Common Council is as follows:—
You shall swear that you shall be trusty unto our lord the King N,
and unto his heirs; and shall quickly come, when you are summoned to
the Common Council of this City, if you be not reasonably excused;
and good and true counsel you shall give, after your wit and cunning;
and that for favour of any man you shall maintain no singular profit
against the public or common profit of the said City; and that after
you come to the Common Council, you shall not from thence depart,
without reasonable cause or the Mayor’s license, until the Mayor and
his fellows shall have departed; and that what shall be spoken in the
Common Council you shall not disclose,—So God you help, and God’s Holy
Gospels.
In the Mayoralty of John Warde, the after-mentioned ordinance was
entered as to the election of Commoners for the Common Council of the
City, to the effect that, whereas heretofore such Commoners had been
elected by the Wards, in future the Commoners for the Common Council
of the City should be elected by the respective Mysteries, and not by
the Wards; that is to say, six by some of the Mysteries, by some four,
and by some two. And for the purpose of so doing, bills were sent by
the Mayor, not to the Aldermen, but to the rulers of the respective
Mysteries. But so long as this ordinance continued in force, tumults
increased among the people, and the great were held in contempt by
the small. Consequently, great disputes and divisions arose among
the citizens, as was seen at the elections of Nicholas Brembre,
John Northamptone, and other Mayors, etc. After this, however, the
more discreet and more worthy persons of the said City being called
together, a long discussion was held as to the amendment of the said
ordinance; and at length it was determined that, in accordance with the
approved and established practice of ancient and praiseworthy usage,
the Common Council should thenceforth be formed by the Wards only,
and not by the Mysteries. And this usage, in reference to the great
meetings in Common Council, is continued and observed to the present
day.” (_Liber Albus_, Riley’s translation, pp. 36-37.)
Upon the Sheriff’s Court was laid a great quantity of work and
responsibility.
There was also the Bishop’s Court for questions connected with Church
property and the claims of the Church.
The officers of the City consisted of the following:—
First the principal officers—
Mayor, Aldermen, Sheriffs.
The Court of Common Council.
The Recorder, the Chamberlain, the Common Serjeant-at-Law, the Common
Clerk.
The Common Serjeant-at-Arms or the Common Crier, the Clerks of the
proceedings, the Serjeants of the Mayor and the Chamberlain, the
Constables, the Scavagers, the Bedels, the Brokers, the Ale-Conners,
the Under-Sheriffs and the Clerks of the Sheriffs, the Sheriffs’
Serjeants, the Serjeants’ Grooms, the Bailiffs of the Market, the
Wardens and Bailiffs of the Bridge, etc.
There was great jealousy as to admission to the freedom of the City.
“Also, because as well in times past, out of memory, as also in modern
times, the City aforesaid is wont to be defended and governed by the
aid and counsels as well of the reputable men of the trades-merchant as
of the other trades-handicraft; and from of old it hath been the usage,
that no strange person, native or alien, as to whose conversation
and condition there is no certain knowledge, shall be admitted to
the freedom of the City, unless first, the merchants or traders of
the City following the trade which the person so to be admitted
intends to adopt, shall be lawfully convoked; that so, by such his
fellow-citizens, so convoked, the Mayor and Aldermen, aforesaid, being
certified as to the condition and trustworthiness of the persons so
to be admitted, may know whether such persons ought to be admitted or
rejected; the whole community demands, that the form aforesaid, so far
as concerns the more important trades and handicrafts, shall in future
be inviolably observed, that so no person in future may against the
provision aforesaid be admitted to the freedom of the City.” (_Liber
Albus_, p. 425.)
On the post and duties of the Coroner, Dr. Reginald Sharpe (_Letter
Book B_) furnishes valuable information.
The functions of Coroner were exercised by the Chamberlain and
Sheriffs. The King’s butler, to whom the office of Coroner belonged,
was generally made City Chamberlain. In December 1302 the King’s Writ
notified the Mayor and Sheriffs that William Trente, his Chamberlain,
to whose bailiwick the office of Coroner in the City belonged (_ad
cujus ballivam officium Coronatoris ... pertinet_), being busy on
affairs of State, had deputed John le Clerk to act as Coroner.
More than once the citizens endeavoured to get the appointment of
Coroner into their own hands. It was Edward the Fourth who, in
consideration of a sum of £7000, gave the City a Charter which, among
other things, enabled the citizens to appoint their own Coroner.
“The customary procedure of holding an inquest on the body of any one
who had died in the City, otherwise than by his rightful death (_ex
alia morte quam recta morte sua_), was as follows:—After receiving
notice of such a death having occurred, and of the body of the deceased
lying in a certain house in a certain ward, the Chamberlain (or
Coroner) and Sheriffs proceeded thither, and having summoned a jury
(drawn partly from the ward in which the body was found, and partly
from two, or sometimes three, of the nearest wards), set to work to
diligently inquire (_diligenter inquisiverunt_) how the deceased
came by his death. If the Chamberlain and Sheriffs failed to hold an
inquest, or held an insufficient one, in cases where the Justices
Itinerant thought an inquest necessary, they were amerced.
The jurors were practically both judges and witnesses, and gave
evidence as to all the facts connected with the deceased’s death, so
far as they could be ascertained. The corpse was then viewed, and if
its appearance tallied with the evidence given, and the jury were
decided as to who caused the death, a precept was issued for the arrest
of the felon (if not already in custody), and his goods were valued,
for which the Sheriffs were answerable. The discoverer of the corpse,
as well as those who witnessed the felony, and two or four neighbours,
were usually attached by sureties to appear, if required, before the
Justices Itinerant at their next coming to the City.
Not only was the discoverer of the corpse bound to raise the hue and
cry so that the neighbours (_patria_) might come and assist in the
capture of the felon, but every one who saw the felony committed was
bound to do the same, and to lose no time in giving notice to the
Chamberlain and Sheriffs, or risk imprisonment on the appearance of the
Justices.” (_Letter Book B_, p. xii.)
The custom of deodand, which was kept up until very recently, was
curious. The thing which caused the death of any person by misadventure
became forfeited to the King by way of deodand, or gift of God. In
course of time not the thing itself, but its value, was the deodand.
Thus, if a horse, a boat, a beam, caused the death of any one, its
value was forfeited and paid to the Sheriffs for the Mayor and
Corporation.
[Illustration: SOUTH-EAST VIEW OF THE OLD HOUSE LATELY STANDING IN
SWEEDON’S PASSAGE, GRUB STREET]
The laws by which London was governed are too long for quotation;
they are explicitly set forth in _Liber Albus_. In the year 1191 it
was provided that a body of twelve Aldermen should be elected in full
Husting, in order to decide all questions that might arise over the
enclosure of land; they also had the power to prevent the erection of
any wooden house; the walls, either party wall or outside wall, were
to be sixteen feet high at least, and three feet thick; and the roofs
were to be of tiles or slate instead of thatch. The law, like so many
mediæval laws, was sensible and necessary. It fell through, as did
all mediæval laws, for want of police to execute it. In London there
were thousands of houses at that moment built of wood with roofs of
thatch. There does not appear to have been any attempt made to replace
wood with stone. That, indeed, would have been impossible on account
of the cost; but, at least, as houses fell down, and many of them in
the narrow courts were only wattle and daub, an attempt might have
been made to replace them with more substantial houses having roofs of
tiles. The mediæval way was to understand very clearly what ought to
be, then to pass a law commanding that thing to be, and then to sit
down, with the feeling that duty had been done.
The general regulations which governed the daily life are given under
the heading of “Inquisitions at the Ward Motes”:—
“You shall present if the peace of his lordship the King has been
broken, or any affray made within the Ward since the last Wardmote,
and by what person or persons the same was done: or if any covin or
assemblage against the peace of his lordship the King has been made.
Item, if there is any one resident or harboured within the Ward, who
is not a lawful person, or not of good fame, or not under frank-pledge.
Item, if any woman of lewd life, or common scold, or common bawd, or
courtesan, is resident within the Ward.
Item, if there is any oven, furnace, or defective reredos within the
Ward, whereby it is likely that there may arise misadventure by fire;
or if any persons use other fuel than wood or charcoal, against the
Ordinance of the City.
Item, if any taverners, brewsters, hostelers, or chandlers, sell
without measures sealed with the seal of the Alderman or of the
Chamber of the Guildhall; and if any one of them sells against the
Assize made thereon by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council of
the City; and if any one of them receives gamesters or other riotous
persons after the hour forbidden by the Ordinance of the City; and if
there are any persons in the Ward who are outlawed.
Item, if there is any huckster in the Ward.
Item, if any house in the Ward is covered with any other roofing than
tiles, lead or stone, and none with reeds or straw.
Item, if there is any one whose practice it is to place filth in any
streets and lanes within the Ward, and offensively before the doors of
others.
Item, if any swine or cows are reared within the Ward, to the
annoyance of the neighbours.
Item, if any leper is resident in the Ward.
Item, if any bargain of usury has been made within the Ward since the
last Wardmote.
Item, if any purprestures are made in the streets or lanes, or upon
the walls or fosses, of the City, or upon the Thames or other common
soil within the Ward.
Item, if any baker of tourte bread bakes white bread, or the converse.
Item, if there are any persons in the habit of wandering within the
Ward after forbidden hours, and in manner forbidden by the Common
Council of the City.
Item, if any officer of the City has made extortion or affray within
the Ward under colour of his office, to the wrong and detriment of any
person; and what it is that has been so done, and how done; or if any
person is a maintainer or champertour of litigation that is carried on
within the Ward.
Item, if any person pays, or gives as wages unto, masons, carpenters,
daubers, tilers, or any other labourers whatsoever, more than is
ordained.
Item, if the ale-stake of any tavern is longer or extends further than
is ordained.” (_Liber Albus_, Riley’s translation, p. 290.)
Then follows the regulation of various trades. The baker comes first,
subject to so many rules and prohibitions that one is surprised to find
any one willing to practise the mystery. Millers, brewers, and sellers
of ale, are also taken under paternal surveillance. Usury is strictly
forbidden—the frequency of the prohibition shows how powerless the law
was to prevent it. The companies had Hall Motes, or meetings of their
members, twice a year, at which their ordinances were to be read. No
one was to take more than two or three apprentices, and then for a term
of at least seven years. No one was to be wandering on the streets
after curfew, unless he was a man of repute or his servant. No one was
to carry arms in the City. Every Alderman was to keep a good watch on
his Ward. None but free men were to be admitted to the freedom of the
City. Wager of battle does not lie between persons free of the City,
unless they consented thereto.
In addition to the Courts already mentioned, there were the Courts
of the Sokes; that is to say, of those places which were outside the
jurisdiction of the City; such were the places called afterwards
Liberties.
The Iter, or Eyre, was a holding by the Justices Itinerant of the
Pleas of the Crown, at which the citizens received, and had to answer
a series of questions on, their Privileges, Customs, Liberties, and
Rights. It was a Court which could be held in a day or two, without
giving much trouble, or it was a Court which could be vexatious and
oppressive to the highest degree.
John Carpenter is as full and explicit on the subject of the Iter as
can be desired. He contemplated that it would be got through in a day
or two. But it was a solemn and important function. The Justices sat
in the Great Hall of the Tower; on the day appointed, all the laymen
of the City were bound to meet at All Hallows at Barking, properly
arrayed—“all the laymen”—does this mean the whole body of merchants,
traders, and craftsmen? That might mean a company of 40,000 men! During
the holding of the Pleas, no shop, seld, cellar, or solar was to be
kept open, and nothing was to be sold. Evidently, therefore, the Iter
was not expected to take long:—
“Also, upon the same day, by sanction of the Common Council of the
City, there should be sent from Berkyngecherche six or more of the more
serious, honourable, and discreet Barons of the City; who are to enter
the Tower for the purpose of saluting and welcoming his lordship the
King, his Council, and his Justiciars, on behalf of the City; begging
of them that, if it so please his lordship the King, they may safely
appear before them in the said Tower, saving all their liberties and
customs unto the Mayor and all other citizens. For his lordship the
King and all his predecessors, Kings of England, and their Justiciars,
have always preserved unto all the citizens their liberties safe and
unimpaired.
And further, the men before named should show unto his lordship the
King, and unto his Council and his Justiciars, that, on behalf of
his lordship the King, they ought to forbid any person to presume
to keep ward at the doors or gates unless he be one of their own
fellow-citizens, and by them thereunto appointed. Nor should any
marshal or crier appear among their fellow-citizens unless he be one
of their number, and acting by desire of the said citizens. For, in
accordance with the liberties of the City, they ought, and of usage
are wont, to have no porter, usher, marshal, or crier, except of their
own number, and such persons as they shall think fit. All the gates
and doors are to be kept open to the Barons and to all the citizens,
so long as the Pleas of the Crown are being holden, to the end, that
they may have free ingress and egress. For so it ought, and of usage is
wont, to be.
After this, three men, discreet and moderate, should be chosen; one of
them is to present unto his lordship the King, and unto his Council and
Justiciars, in due order, such haps and mishaps concerning the Crown
of his lordship the King as have occurred within the City, from the
time when the pleas were last holden down to the present time: while
the other two men are to remain standing by the said presenter, the one
namely on his right hand and the other on his left. And if it should
so happen that while thus making the presentment he becomes fatigued,
one of these is to continue such presentment. And if by any chance he
should commit an error in making the presentment, he must in a low
voice be corrected by the two who are standing by, it being understood
that no other person shall in any way presume to disturb or to correct
such presenter, but only the two who are standing by him, in manner
already mentioned. No tumult, no murmur, no strife, no debate with one
another, is to be going on among the people while such presentments are
being made; but all persons are to keep themselves quiet and without
litigation, as they would preserve the honour and the liberties of the
City, and to the end that the presenter may be heard by all and duly
understood in peace.
It should also be known and kept in memory that, in the case of all
things charged against the Barons and the community of the citizens,
the answer to be made by the City is this—That although they may be
fully instructed and certified how to make answer, still, they will
not advisedly make answer thereto; but, after holding counsel and
conference together thereupon, they will make answer by the Common
Council, saving always the liberties of the City. And for the purpose
of preparing such answers, four-and-twenty persons or more must be
chosen from the Common Council, who shall forthwith proceed to hold a
Common Council of the City for ensuring the safety and protection of
the whole body of the citizens. And no stranger shall thrust himself
among them, to hear the counsels of the City, so long as they shall be
thus holding conference together thereon.
After the Justiciars of his lordship the King shall have handed and
shown unto the Mayor and Barons of the City the articles pertaining
unto the Crown, they shall immediately demand a fitting day, for the
purpose of making due preparation and taking counsel thereon, to the
end that they may be able safely to make answer to the said articles
upon the day so granted unto them by the Justiciars; and that in the
meantime they may be enabled discreetly to enrol and brief the same
articles and their answers thereto.
From the four-and-twenty men or more before mentioned, four persons
or more should be selected, of the Common Council of the City, to be
associated with the Mayor for the purpose more especially of making
answer to the charges and articles aforesaid. Also the Mayor’s Clerk,
together with the Common Clerk of the City and the Sheriffs’ Clerks,
shall be seated before them for the purpose of noting by way of
memorial all such charges that are made; lest the same, through default
of being so noted, should be lost in oblivion. And one of such persons
must act as prothonotary; from whose notes all the others are to take
copy, in setting down as well the King’s charges as the answers made by
the community.
Also, as concerning the Sheriffs and Aldermen, provision must be made
as follows:—The Sheriffs are to have their serjeants there present,
and all the Aldermen the bedels of their Wards, becomingly and fairly
arrayed and shod, prompt and ready to perform and fulfil the commands
of the Mayor and Barons of the City, according to such injunctions as
may be given to each; their capes, too, and cloaks laid aside, they
are to be fairly arrayed in coats and surcoats, bearing straight white
wands in their hands. Of these, too, four or more, as may be necessary,
must be assigned to the office of keeping the gates and doors; as
also two criers, and certain others who are to act as marshals, in
fulfilling such duties as may be enjoined them. And if perchance any
one of these should be an aged man, weak or infirm, or have sore eyes,
then, at the common expense, another person must be substituted in his
place, and of the same ward, efficiently to perform such duties. And as
to such men, due precautions should be taken that they be seemly and
proper persons, newly shaven and shorn.”
The following are “Articles touching his lordship the King”:—
“Of default made in appearing before the Justiciars. Of those who are
at the King’s mercy, and have not been amerced. Of old Pleas of the
Crown which have been formerly holden before the Justiciars, and have
not been determined. Of new Pleas which have since arisen. Of youths
of high parentage and of damsels, who are, and who ought to be, in the
wardship of his lordship the King: in whose wardship they are, and
through whom, and what is the value of their lands. Of escheats of his
lordship the King; what such lands are, and who hold them, and through
whom, and what is the value thereof. Of demesnes which are in the gift
of the King, what they are, and who hold them, and through whom, and
how much the lands thereof are worth. Of churches which are in the
gift of the King, whether the same are vacant or not; which are such
churches, and who holds them, and through whom. Of purprestures made
upon the King, by land or by water, or elsewhere; what they are, and
who has made them, and through whom. Of measures made throughout the
realm; whether the same are observed in such manner as was commanded,
and if any one has given reward to the wardens of such measures, that
by measures they may sell or buy; and this is to be understood of all
measures, as well of wine as of corn, and all measures (of length).
Of wines sold contrary to the assize, and who has sold the same. Of
treasures-trove, what they are, and who found the same. Of Christian
usurers who have died, who they were, and what chattels they had. Of
chattels of French or of Flemings, or of enemies of the King, that have
been seized; what the chattels are that have been so seized, and who
holds the same. Of chattels of Jews who have been slain, and of their
debts, and deeds, and securities; who such Jews were, and who holds
their securities or deeds. Of those who hold of the Honour of Pevrel in
London and of Pevrel in Dover; who they are, and what land they hold,
and by what service. Of outlaws, and burglars, and fugitives, and other
malefactors, and of those who have harboured them. Of the seaports;
if the same have been well-guarded, and if any one has carried corn
or other things to the territories of the King’s enemies for sale. Of
those who have taken lack of the thirteenths; who they are, and how
much they have taken, and from whom. Of serjeants of hundreds or others
who have taken reward from men on account of the thirteenths; who they
are, and how much, and from whom. Of those who are wont to do injury
in parks and piscaries; who they are, and where they have done so, and
in what parks and piscaries. Of fugitives, if any one has returned
since his flight. Of prises taken by Sheriffs or Constable, or by any
Bailiff, against the will of those whose chattels were to be taken. Of
forgers and clippers of the coin.”
But in the Iter of 4 Henry the Third there were only eighteen questions
put to the citizens. Both questions and answers turn on points of law.
It will readily be understood that such an inquisition was at all
times irksome, and might be made tyrannical and intolerable. The Iter
of 1321 was such an occasion. It was made to last for six months. One
cannot suppose that shops were shut and nothing bought and sold for
the whole of that time. The articles and questions submitted to the
citizens were more than a hundred in number, and many of them required
an investigation of more than twenty years back. In a word, the
Justices had come to the Tower with instructions to make themselves as
disagreeable as possible, to prolong the inquiries, raise objections,
and make difficulties. They carried out these instructions, the
citizens becoming more and more indignant. It was intended to prove
that the City had been guilty of irregularities, such as to warrant the
King’s taking it into his own hands.
Six months after the commencement of these proceedings, however, an
insurrection was threatened in Wales. This made it desirable not to
exasperate the Londoners any more, and the Iter was brought to a sudden
close.
Let us, at this point, consider briefly the relations of London with
the King. London, as we know already, except for a very brief period,
had no over-lord except the King himself. This, one of her greatest
privileges, caused the personal character of the Sovereign to be even
more strongly felt by the citizens of London than by the rest of the
Kingdom. In London, far more than in the rest of the country, the
cause of order and authority rested upon the personal character of the
King. If he were strong, the City was well-ordered; if he were weak,
the City fell into disorder and confusion. Edward the First, when the
City was manifestly beyond the control of the officers, deposed the
Mayor for a time and governed the City by his own Warden till order was
re-established. This power of the King over the City was not considered
usurpation; it was part of the recognised order of things; every
citizen knew that he was a servant of the King. On this point let me
quote certain wholesome words of Cunningham (_Hist. of Trade_, p. 131):—
“Of all the cant which is current in the present day about history,
none is more pernicious than that which despises the story of real
personages and real events and busies itself about abstractions, which
tells us that it is not concerned with kings and battles, but with the
life of the people. It is true indeed that in modern times the life of
the people can be treated apart from the consideration of the personal
character of George IV. or William IV. But in the Norman reigns this
was not the case; security for person and property, intercourse with
other nations and commercial advance were directly connected with the
personal character of the King; the life of the people was most deeply
affected in every way by the strength or weakness of his disposition.”
The King’s revenue was made up of many distinct branches: (1) there
were the Royal domain, manor, and estates scattered about the country
and let to tenants; (2) there were the fines paid on great occasions;
(3) pre-emption, that is, the right of buying what he pleased at his
own price; when his purveyors bought goods exposed for sale this was
called “prise”; (4) military tenures, by which for each five tithes of
land the King might demand a knight’s services for forty days; (5) aids
and fines, as on great occasions, such as the marrying of the King’s
daughter; (6) the wealth of the Jews who were the King’s property; he
was heir to their estates, and could without question seize on all
they had; (7) Danegeld, which William continued; its name was changed
but the tax remained; (8) tallages, which were aids in time of special
need.
All the taxes were at first on estate. Henry the Second introduced
taxation on movables. Sometimes it was a fifteenth. The nature of this
tax may be imagined by supposing it to be imposed upon a trader’s stock
at the present day. His stock is worth, suppose, £9000; he would pay
£600 upon it. But he has a house with furniture, plate, pictures, and
books which have accumulated for two or three generations. The contents
of the house are worth, say, £3000. He would have to pay £200 on this
account. He has £12,000 invested; he must pay £800 on the investments.
He would have, then, to pay at one call £1600 in taxes. These taxes
were not imposed all at the same time, nor on the same class; one year
the clergy were called upon, another the knights, on another occasion
the City of London would be taxed. It seems to us an arbitrary method;
but then we have lost the sense of kingly authority. To our ancestors,
whom we must not consider as prophets, it was a right and proper thing
that a man should be called upon by the King at any moment to surrender
a great slice of his property.
It was the first proof of a bad King that he demanded these aids too
frequently. It was another proof that in spite of his aids he allowed
the country to fall into disorder. At such times the hapless trader
found it impossible to carry on his business in a country infested by
robbers and over seas infested by pirates. Yet, even then, the King was
still demanding more and more. The best, the only hope of the citizens
was, not to be free from the King, but that the King should make his
authority felt over them as well as over the country. They wanted a
King like Henry the First, Henry the Second, or Edward the First. It
was the greatest blessing to London that their Kings were, with one or
two exceptions, strong and clear-headed men.
The King also exercised authority over the Moneyers and the Mint.
Formerly there were mints in many places; we have seen how Henry the
First treated those who debased the coin. Henry the Second kept the
Mint in London, where he could control it more effectually. He also set
up an office in the Mint for the exchange of foreign money: a great
convenience to foreign merchants.
In the year 1312, letters were sent by the King, Edward the Second, to
the City of London concerning the safe keeping of the City. The method
of reception of a Royal Communication by the Mayor and Aldermen may be
learned from Riley’s _Memorials_ (p. 93). The following is the letter:—
“Edward, by the grace of God, King of England, Lord, etc., to the
Mayor, and Aldermen, and all the commonalty of our City of London,
greeting. Forasmuch as we do confide very much in the loyalty that is
among you, and the affection which you have towards ourselves, such as
you ought to have for your liege lord; and, more especially, for the
love which we have, and at all times have had, towards you, as you well
know; we do pray you affectionately, and do command and charge you,
strictly enjoining, on the fealty which unto us you owe, and as you
wish to save your bodies, and your heritages, and whatsoever you have,
from penalty of negligence as regards us, that you cause our City of
London right safely and surely to be kept, in behalf of ourselves and
of our heirs; that so no damage or peril may befall it—the which God
forbid—for default of good and sufficient guard; and that our lordship
and our estate be there saved in all points, without any manner of
blemish, as we do especially trust in you, and as you would eschew
peril unto yourselves. And understand so well this our command, and
have it so tenderly at heart, that we may be able to praise you for the
same, and that nought of our right, or of our lordship, in our City
be lost, on peril of losing whatsoever unto us you may forfeit. Given
under our Privy Seal, at York, the 21st day of January, in the 5th year
of our reign.”
In addition to this general letter, the following letter was sent
separately to the leading citizens, viz.:—
“To John de Gisorz. To John de Lincoln. To Thomas Romain. To Henry de
Durham. To William Servat. To John de Wengrave. To William Trente. To
Richer de Refham. To William de Leyre. To John de Burford. To Simon
Corp. To William de Forneis. To William Walrain. To William Bidik. To
Robert de Keleseye. To Stephen de Abyndone. To Ralph le Balancer. To
Hamond Godchep. To Robert le Callere. To Edmond Lambyn.”
“Edward, etc., to our well-beloved John de Gisorz, our Mayor of London,
greeting. As we have sent word unto you, to the Aldermen, and to the
Commonalty, of our City of London, that among you and them, in whose
loyalty we do greatly trust, for the affection which you have towards
ourselves, as towards your liege lord, especially for the love which
we have, and at all times have had, towards you and those of the said
City; and as you would yourselves save your bodies, your heritages,
and whatsoever you have to save, from penalty of negligence as regards
ourselves, you do cause our said City right safely and surely to be
kept in our behalf; that so no damage or peril may befall it—the which
God forbid—and that our lordship and our estate may there be saved in
all points, without any manner of blemish; and as we do know that you
are the man in London by whose counsels is guided the manhood thereof,
and are persuaded that the manhood of our said City will charge itself
with the safe-keeping of the same our City, and most willingly would
save it to the use of us and of our heirs, as is right; we do command
and charge you, on the fealty which unto us you owe, and as you would
wish to eschew the penalty aforesaid, that you use all diligence and
all counsel as towards the said manhood of the City, and towards
all those of our said City, who shall be most available towards the
safe-keeping thereof, that they undertake such safe-keeping, and cause
the same our City so safely and surely to be kept, in behalf of us
and our heirs, that nought of our right, or of our lordship, be lost
therein; and that so we may be able to perceive the diligence that
you shall have employed herein; for the which we may be the more
especially beholden to you. Given under our Privy Seal, at York, the
21st day of January, in the 5th year of our reign” (pp. 94-95).
In consequence of these letters, John de Gisors, the Mayor, called
together the Aldermen and some of the commonalty of each ward on the
Saturday after the Purification, _i.e._ on the 2nd of February. It is
remarkable that only seventeen Aldermen are named in the list; that
eight did not appear at the meeting; and that, of those to whom the
separate letters had been written, only three obeyed the King’s special
invitation.
However, at the meeting certain ordinances were passed for the repair
and the safety of the walls and the gates and the quay. Elsewhere these
and similar orders have been set forth.
These regulations passed, the Mayor sent a letter to the King:—
“Whereas, Sire, you have demanded of us by your letters that we should
cause to be guarded and safely kept your said City in behalf of
yourself and your heirs, according as is in your mandate contained;
know, Sire, that of the same wish we ourselves are, and at all times
have been, and always will be, to the best of our lawful power, if
God so please. And we do let you know that your said City is in good
condition, may God be thanked; and your people set in good array,
according as the times demand; and that ordinance has been made to
strengthen and to repair the gates, and the defaults in the walls, and
divers other things which pertain to the safe-keeping of the said City,
so speedily as ever the same may be properly done. Unto God, our most
dear Lord, we commend you, and may he save you and keep you; and may he
grant unto you a good life, and a long” (p. 97).
To this letter was appended a very singular and suggestive rider, which
the bearer was instructed to lay before the King:—
“Under the first head:—that the murage which our Lord the King has
granted to the City, and wherewith the old walls of the City ought to
be repaired, strengthened and amended, is now spent upon the new wall
behind the Friars Preachers at Castle Baynard, towards the Thames, by
your command and nowhere else.
[Illustration: S.W. VIEW OF GERRARD’S HALL
(Gisors’ Hall, Basing Lane, otherwise denoted Gerrard’s Hall Inn,
the residence of Sir John Gisors, Mayor of London in 1245, 1246, and
1259; it descended to another Sir John Gisors, Mayor and Constable of
the Tower, in 1311-1314; and was possessed by several of that family
until 1386, when it was alienated by Thomas Gisors.) From _Londina
Illustrata_.]
Also, that such outlays and costs, which are great, and are hastily
expended upon so many repairs, whereas in justice they ought to be
levied from all those who have rents, and tenements, and moveables,
within the City, commonly fall upon one part of the citizens only,
and not upon persons of the religious Orders, and others who have
franchises by charter and in almoigne[13]; to the amount indeed of the
third part of the rental of the said City. And such persons are not
willing to give any portion thereof, or any aid or contribution, or any
assistance, thereto, although they are saved just as much throughout
the said city as the rest of the citizens. And if the King shall see
fit, and deem it good that they should aid therein, the people of the
City will be the better comforted, and the better strengthened, and the
more speedily will they have the City put in due repair.”
So that the new piece of wall outside the Black Friars, and between
their House and the Fleet, was not built by the Friars at all as is
sometimes stated, but out of the murage granted by the King, and it
will also be observed that so early as 1312, before the new ideas had
been started, there were grumblings at the exemption of the Religious
from taxation and a complaint that their property amounted to a third
part of the rental of the whole City.
[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF SURGEONS’ ARMS, 1492, WITH ST. COSMO AND
ST. DAMIAN SUPPORTING
From Young’s _Annals of the Barber Surgeons_.]
The comparative wealth of London at the time of the Conquest is shown
by the fact that the City was assessed for Danegeld at 1200 hides: that
Westminster was assessed at 118 hides; and Middlesex at 853½ hides;
that London paid £120, Middlesex £85: 0: 6; and, one supposes, on the
same scale, Westminster £11: 16s.
Though London was never separated in feeling or in fact from the
country, though the sons of the country gentlemen came up to London
and were there apprenticed, trade was carried on between London and
the country with as many laws, restrictions, and regulations, as if
the towns were in a foreign state. This was not due to jealousies of
the City or the towns, but mainly in consequence of the authority of
the over-lord. For instance, the customs of Chester with reference to
“foreign” merchants—those of London were foreign—show three separate
jurisdictions in the City: that of the King, that of the Earl, and that
of the Bishops. Trade with the interior was chiefly conducted at the
fairs. During the fair, the people came from all the country round,
including those who, like the Friars in later years, roamed about the
villages and farms selling small things.
Let us make a special inquiry into the contribution of London to the
Royal treasury. There were the customs dues of the Port; the customs
tolls of the City Gates and the City Markets, the “Stallages” of the
tradesmen, the fines of foreigners, the dues of Billingsgate and Queen
Hithe; some of these were paid to the Corporation and some to the
King’s officers. Whenever the money was paid into the Exchequer, it was
weighed and assayed. Thus, on one occasion the Sheriffs paid in £245
odd on account of money due. The coin was assayed and found 13d. in the
pound short. On a second trial it was found 12d. in the pound short.
Thereupon the Sheriffs demanded a third trial. The accounts were kept
by means of tallies, and for counters they used Venetian shillings and
gold besants.
Apart from the customs and the Crown lands, the King’s revenues were
largely increased by Fines, Amercements, “Misericordia,” Aids, Scutage
and Tallage, all of which were methods of profound interest to the
City. As regards fines, there were fines for everything. They were
inflicted in the shape of money, horses, wine, hawks, dogs, lampreys,
robes, Flemish caps and other things. In the pages of Madox one may
read how men paid fines for becoming an Alderman, for the right to
succeed to a property, for the King’s help in recovering debts from
the Jews, for permission not to plead except in a certain manner,
for permission to plead at all, for permission to summon a man, for
permission for a jury of matrons to inquire whether a certain woman has
or has not borne a child, for an inquiry whether a man was out with
John in rebellion, to examine into a pedigree, to inquire into old
customs, for permission to move that certain persons ought not to sit
on a Jury, for an inquiry whether a certain man was accused unjustly or
not, for petitioning the King that the Itinerant Justices might visit
a town, for speeding a cause, for delaying a cause, for leave to hold
office, for leave to quit office, for leave to marry, for leave (for
a woman) to remain unmarried if she pleased (for life, or for five
years—a very great number of widows desired to remain unmarried), for
leave to marry a certain woman (Geoffrey de Mandeville paid a fine of
£20,000, certainly equal to half a million of our money, for leave to
marry Isabel, Countess of Gloucester, with all her estates), for leave
to form a Guild, to import and export, for the concord of a duel, for
leave to have a servant.
[Illustration:
_The Photochrom Co. Ltd._
INTERIOR OF THE GUILDHALL]
Now and then the list of fines makes one wonder what story is hidden
behind them. For instance, why was the wife of Hugh de Nevill fined for
permission to stay one night with her husband? Was he in prison? Again,
Reginald de Tewarden is fined twenty marks for permission to keep his
lands after he had undergone the ordeal of hot iron unsuccessfully,
and had abjured the country. He was proved guilty apparently. And was
the fine of twenty marks thought the kind of penalty that would meet
the case? William de Thievespathe—ominous name!—makes the same request
for the same cause and with the same result. The iron, therefore, was
sometimes hot. Another man, one Gospatric, pays twenty marks as a
fine to escape the ordeal of hot iron. William of Sixteen Tale pays
the large fine of £80 for wounding a priest: Robert, son of Hugh, gets
off with £7: 2: 9—enough, however, to break a craftsman—for wounding
“a man”; observe the difference between a man and a priest. Lawrence
the Priest has to pay twenty marks “pro homine ementulato.” Who,
again, was “Jeremy of London”? He took sanctuary, he refused to come
out, they fined him a hundred shillings, and then? There is no more.
Margaret FitzRoger has to pay a fine of £1000 before she can get at
her inheritance, to wit, her father’s estate, her husband’s, her own
dower, which her son has got, and be released from certain debts to the
Jews. Sometimes the fine took the form of a bribe, as when Nathaniel
Leveland, hereditary keeper of the King’s houses at Westminster and on
the banks of the Fleet, sent in a fine of sixty marks for permission
to keep that office, and Osbert de Longchamp paid the same fine for
permission to take over those offices.
Every fine, whatever the amount, was either increased by a small sum or
contained that small sum, which was called Aurum Reginæ, the Queen’s
Gold. Thus when Thomas FitzAnther was forgiven his fine of ten marks,
the Aurum Reginæ was at the same time remitted. In the year 1253 the
City of London was called upon to pay up the Aurum Reginæ, part of the
fine for receiving back their liberties, and in 1254 the Sheriffs were
ordered to distrain for the amount.
Now the method of promoting virtue and filling the coffers was by
the _misericordia_ or amercement. I cannot understand the difference
between the two. But that matters little, they both meant a fine. By
studying the long list of cases furnished by my authority, Madox,[14]
I arrive at a theory, not a conclusion, that the amercement was a
punishment for offences which could not be tried in a criminal court,
yet were real offences. Thus, for false or unjust accusations or
plaints, a man was amerced, or for unjust detainer, for offences in
the forests, trespass, etc., for making a man fight two duels in one
day, a thing manifestly unfair, for “ill keeping” a duel, _i.e._, not
observing all the rules respecting duels, for claiming to be a free man
when one was but a villein, for detaining sheep, for harbouring a man
who was not in frank-pledge, for making again a dyke which the King
had caused to be levelled, for using twice in ordeal an iron which had
been heated only once, gross injustice to the second man, for burying
a drowned man without the view by the King’s servant, for putting a
man to the ordeal of water (was it then forbidden?), for trespass, and
in the case of a rebellious bride, for not coming to be married on the
day appointed. For these, and similar offences, the citizens suffered
amercement and _misericordia_.
More formidable than any of these, more dreaded than fine, amercement,
or _misericordia_, were the Aid, the Relief, the Scutage, and the
Tallage.
There were three principal kinds of aid. (1) The aid _pur fille
marier_, or the occasion of the marriage of the King’s daughter.
Henry the First took for his daughter’s marriage three shillings on
each hide. Henry the Second, for his part, imposed a tax under this
name of one mark for every knight’s fee. As great lords might hold
many knights’ fees, the tax was considerable. (2) The aid _pur faire
chevaler_, on the occasion of conferring knighthood on the King’s son.
This tax was the same in amount as the preceding. The third kind of aid
was the raising of money if necessary for the King’s ransom.
[Illustration: A TALLY FOR 6S. 8D. ISSUED BY EDWARD I.’S TREASURER TO
THE SHERIFF OF LINCOLNSHIRE]
Reliefs were simply arbitrary sums exacted by the King. The relief of
the knight’s fee in the reign of Henry the Second was five pounds; that
of a baron one hundred pounds. Scutage was, as its name denotes, an
assessment of the knights’ fees.
Tallage corresponded more closely with our modern taxes. The City,
ordered to make up so much money, assessed its lands separately at
so much, which the Aldermen of each portion was bound to collect
by assessing all the free men in his ward. In some cases, private
merchants, those known to be wealthy, were separately assessed. Thus
in one tallage Hugh de Basing is assessed at twelve marks, Thomas
de Plaines at ten marks, William FitzAdam at a hundred shillings.
Sometimes the King’s officers are separately assessed, as when the
moneyers of London, Archard, Lefwine Besant, and Ailwine Finch, were
ordered to pay respectively a hundred shillings, five marks, and two
marks.
[Illustration: ELECTION GARLAND GIVEN BY ROBERT AND CICELY CHAMBERLAYN,
1463
From Welch’s _History of the Pewterers’ Company_.]
The tallage of the City in the year 1226 has been preserved. I copy it
here from Thomas Madox (_History of the Exchequer_):—
“William filius Benedict, r. c. de xxxv. marcis, de Warde Fori. Andrew
Bukerel, r. c. de xxx l. xvii s. viii. d., de Warde sua. Michael de
Sancta Elena, r. c. de C & vii. s. & x. d., de Warda sua. Joceres Fitz
Petri, xxxii. l. xviii. s., de Warda sua. Robertus filius Johannis
(debet), iiij l. xvij s. & iiij d., de Warda sua. Johannes Viel
(debet), xxj l. & xiij s., de Warda sua. Ace le Mairener, r. c. de
xxvij l. & xx. d., de Warda sua. Rogerus Blundus, r. c. xxviij l. xi.
s. & v. d. & ob., de Warda sua. Stephanus le Gras Waleran (debet), xi.
l. & xij. s. de Warda sua.
Warinus filius Nicholai, r. c. de xiiij l. & xiij s., de Warda sua.
Ricardus de Russye (debet), xj l. & iiij s., de Warda sua. Ricardus
Raynger, r. c. de xiiij l. x. s. & iiij d., de Warda sua. Radulfus
Sperling, r. c. de ix. l. & viij s., de Warda sua. Radulfus Steperingg,
r. c. de vj l. & vj s., de Warda sua. Gilbertus filius Fulconis
(debet), xix. s., de Warda sua. Walterus de Insula, r. c. de L xxiiij
s., de Warda sua. Portsoken (debet), xxiiij s., de Warda sua. Johannes
Travers, iiij l. xvj. s., de Warda sua. Petrus filius Rogeri, iiij l.
xviij s., de Warda sua. Jacobus Blundus, viij l. xj s. & x. d., de
Warda sua. Bassushag, xxxiij s., de Warda sua. Rogerus Burserius, r. c.
de L s., de Warda sua. Johannes de Solarijs (debet), xxviij s. & iiij
d., de Warda sua.” (_Note_ 5, vol. i. p. 709.)
We also find the City disputing the right of the King to tallage them.
Madox relates the story:—
“In or about the 39th year of King Henry III. it was provided by the
King’s Council at Merton, that the King should tallage his Demeanes in
England towards the great Expenses he had been at in foreign Parts.
The citizens of London being called before the King and his Council at
Merton about tallaging the City, Ralf Hardell, the Mayor, with several
others came, and the King demanded of them a Tallage of three thousand
Marks. When they had consulted with their Fellow-citizens, they came
and offered two thousand Marks by way of Aid, saying, They could not,
nor would give more. Upon this the King sent his Treasurer, Philip
Lovell, with others to St. Martin’s to receive of the City a fine of
three thousand Marks for Tallage, in case they would enter into such
Fine, and if they would not, then they were ordered to assess the
Tallage _per Capita_. The City refusing to enter into that Fine, the
Treasurer and the other Commissioners were about to assess the Tallage
_per Capita_, ordering the Citizens to swear concerning the Value of
each other’s Chattells. The Citizens refused to make such Oath, or to
declare upon the Faith they owed to the King the Value of each other’s
chattells. So the Treasurer and other Commissioners came back _re
infecta_. Afterwards the Citizens came before the King and his Council
at Westminster on the Sunday after Candlemas. It was there disputed
whether this should be called a Tallage or an Aid. The King ordered
Search to be made, whether the Citizens had formerly paid Tallage to
the King or his Ancestours. Upon Search, it was found both in the
Rolls of the Exchequer and of the Chancery, that in the 16th year of
King John, the Citizens were tallaged at two thousand Marks, to have
the Interdict taken off; that in the 7th year of King Henry III. they
were tallaged at one thousand Marks; that in the 26th year of the same
King, they paid one thousand Marks by way of Tallage; and that in the
37th year, they gave one thousand Marks and xx Marks of Gold by way
of Tallage. Afterwards, on the Morrow, the Mayor and Citizens came
and acknowledged, that they were talliable, and gave the King three
thousand Marks for Tallage.” (Vol. i. p. 711.)
In this chapter I have shown, by the aid of John Carpenter, that by
the end of the fifteenth century the days of “Uncertain Steps” were
passed away. The New Order, which gave the power and authority of the
City more and more into the hands of the Commonalty, has now become
well defined and established; it is the constitution of the City;
the old feuds have vanished; the old City families have disappeared;
the craftsmen no longer go about bellowing that they are the Commons;
they are reduced to order every one in his own Company, and every man
knowing his place in his Company; the place of the craftsman is one
of obedience; he has been educated by the Company, apprenticed by the
Company, made a freeman of the Company; he works in accordance with
the rules of the Company; he is paid according to its rules; when he
is old he will be a pensioner in the Company; should he die young his
widow and children will be the care of the Company. And instead of the
former government of the City by hereditary right, the City is now
governed by the forms of popular election, with safeguards, by elected
Aldermen, elected Sheriffs, elected Common Council, and elected Wardens
as Masters of the Companies. And as to the share which the craftsmen
possessed in the elections the less that question was raised the better
it was for the order and the security of the City.
CHAPTER VIII
THE CITY COMPANIES
We have next to consider the origin, growth, and development of the
City Companies.
On the origin and antiquity of Guilds I have already spoken (vol.
i. p. 204). It is impossible to conceive of any time, after men had
begun to live in villages and towns, after arts and crafts had arisen,
after some attempt at order had been made, when there were no such
associations as those we call guilds. Those of the same trade were
compelled to band together for the use of tools, for instruction, for
the regulation of the output, for protection of all kinds. In the fifth
century there were “consuls” or chiefs, of the Locksmiths; the bakers
of Paris act as a body in the reign of King Dagobert; in Lombardy they
had colleges of artisans; in Ravenna in the tenth century there was a
college of fishermen; there was a chief of the Corporation of Traders;
a chief of the Corporation of Butchers. In Paris in the year 1162
there were dues payable by the Corporation of Tanners, Shoemakers, and
Pursemakers.
The oldest Guild-Statutes extant in this country are the laws of
three Guilds, those of Abbotsbury, Exeter, and Cambridge. The general
principles of the three are thus summed up by Brentano:—
“According to the latest investigation into the origin of Gilds, the
drawing-up of all these statutes took place in the beginning of the
eleventh century. In the case of one of these Gilds, there is no doubt
whatever as to the accuracy of this date. This Gild was founded and
richly endowed by Orcy, a friend of Canute the Great, at Abbotsbury,
in honour of God and St. Peter. Its object, according to the statutes,
appears to have been the support and nursing of infirm Gild-brothers,
the burial of the dead, the performance of religious services, and the
saying of prayers for their souls. The association met every year,
on the feast of St. Peter, for united worship in honour of their
patron saint. Beside this, there was a common meal: and in order that
the poor might also have their share in the joys of the festival,
they received alms on the day of the feast; for which purpose the
Gild-brothers were obliged to furnish, on the eve of the day,
contributions of bread ‘well boulted and thoroughly baked.’ Guests
were only admitted to the common meal by permission of the Master
and Steward. Insults offered in a malignant spirit by one brother to
another, were punished on the part of the Gild, and had also to be
atoned for to the insulted. He who had undertaken an office, but had
not properly discharged its duties, was severely punished.
The Exeter Gild, whose statutes have likewise been preserved, was of
altogether the same character. Here, however, association for the
purpose of worship and prayer stands out more prominently as the
object of the brotherhood than in the former case. Three times a year
the Gild-brothers assembled to worship together for the well-being of
their living and dead fellow-members. Here, also, every such service
was followed by a meal in common. When any brother died, every member
was obliged to perform special devotions for the departed soul.
The mutual care of the Gild-brothers was, moreover, shown by money
contributions in case of death, and in the support of those who went
on a journey, as well as of those who had suffered loss by fire.
Punishments were decreed for insults offered by the Gild-brothers to
each other, as well as for not fulfilling the duties imposed on them
by the Gild.
The statutes of the Gild at Cambridge show that its main object was
altogether different from that of the two already mentioned. At the
very outset, in the oath which every member had to take on the relics
of the patron Saint of the Gild, they swore faithful brotherhood
towards each other, not only in religious, but also in secular
matters; and though the statutes secured for the Gild-brothers the
same support in case of sickness and death as those of Exeter and
Abbotsbury—and, like those, contained regulations with reference
to alms, divine worship and feasts—yet all these objects were but
insignificant in comparison with the measures for the protection
of the members of the Gild against criminals, and even against the
evil consequences of their own wrong-doings. The following may be
considered a first principle: ‘If one misdo, let all bear it; let
all share the same lot’; and for carrying this out, a complete
organisation existed. If one of the Gild-brothers required the help of
his fellow-members, the inferior officer of the Gild living nearest
to him had to hasten to his aid; should the officer neglect this,
he became liable to punishment, and in like manner the head of the
society, should he be remiss in affording help. If a Gild-brother was
robbed, the whole Gild had to assist him in obtaining compensation
from the law-breaker. So also every Gild-brother was obliged to
help, if a member himself had to make atonement for killing a man.
If, however, he had no justifiable motive for committing the act, if
he had not been provoked to it in a quarrel, if he was not under an
obligation to execute vengeance, but had slain the man merely from
malice, he himself had to bear the consequences of the deed. If one
Gild-brother killed another, he had first to reconcile himself with
the kinsmen of the murdered man, and had moreover to pay eight pounds
to all those belonging to his larger family, namely, the Gild; failing
which, he was shut out of the society, and the members of the Gild
were forbidden to hold friendly intercourse of any kind with him. In
like manner, an insult offered by one Gild-brother to another was
severely punished. The solidarity of the society was even shown in
the case of violence and damage to property, which one member might
have suffered from the servant of another; the master of the servant
was answerable for him, and was sued by the society for compensation.
It was, moreover, a leading principle of the society, to which every
member had to bind himself by oath, always to support him who had
right on his side.
The essence of the manifold regulations of the statutes of these three
Gilds appears to be the brotherly banding together into close unions
between man and man, sometimes even established on and fortified by
oath, for the purpose of mutual help and support. This essential
characteristic is found in all the Gilds of every age, from those
first known to us in detail, to their descendants of the present day,
the Trade Unions. According to the variety of wants and interests at
various times, the aims, arrangements, and rules of these unions also
varied. As a rule, the Gild-brothers periodically assembled together
for common feasts.” (_English Gilds_, p. lxv, Toulmin Smith’s edit.)
Stubbs divides the English Guild into three kinds—the Religious Guild,
which had a social side; the Frith Guild; and the Merchant Guild.
I. Let us set forth the ordinances, already summed up, of the Exeter
Guild, which belongs to the first kind.
“First, this Society is assembled in Exeter for God’s love and their
souls’ profit, both in regard to the prosperity of this life and the
future, which we wish for ourselves in God’s judgment.
1. There shall be three meetings in the year, the first at Michaelmas,
the second at the feast of Our Lady after midwinter, and the third at
the feast of All Saints after Easter.
2. Each brother shall contribute two _sextarii_ of malt, and each
cniht one and a portion of honey.
3. The priest shall celebrate two masses, one for the living friends,
the other for the dead, at each meeting; and each brother of lay
estate shall recite two psalters, one for the living friends, the
other for the dead. This altogether will make six masses and six
psalters, there being three general meetings.
4. At each expedition ordered by the King every brother shall
contribute five pence.
5. At a house-burning each brother shall contribute a penny.
6. If any brother neglect an appointment for a meeting on the first
occasion he shall pay for three masses, on the second occasion for
five, and on the third occasion no allowance shall be made for the
neglect unless it be through infirmity or his lord’s business.
7. If any brother neglect the appointment of paying his subscription
or contribution let him compensate for it two-fold.
8. If any man of this fellowship revile another, let him compensate
for it with thirty pence. In conclusion the document prays ‘for God’s
love, that every man of this assembly justly observe what we have
justly ordained. God assist us therein.’”
[Illustration: A BAGPIPE-PLAYER
From Nichol’s _Some Account of the Worshipful Company of Ironmongers_.]
As, formerly, each family was a company allied against the world, so a
Guild was the extension of that principle, and was the association of
many families to form one. Thus, to quote Brentano once more (p. 5):—
“The family was, according to these historians (Waitz and Lappenberg),
a community of all-comprehending importance, and its care provided
completely for nearly all the wants of the individual. This it was
able to do in consequence of the then simplicity of life. The minor
found in it his protection; the insulted, the natural friends who
sympathised with him most keenly in every injury inflicted, and who
helped him to procure satisfaction. He who would engage in those
pursuits which alone in that age were worthy of a freeman, and which
at the same time promised riches and fame—in chase, feuds, and
war—found in the family his natural allies. Naturally, he who fell
into poverty, or sickness, or any other kind of distress, obtained
from the family the necessary help; and it provided of course for the
burial of the dead, whose heir it was. These are indeed the first, and
are even nowadays the practical results of the family union. For the
murdered, there arose from the midst of his family an avenger; to the
robbed it gave the necessary help to prosecute and punish the thief,
and to obtain restitution of the plunder. Further consequences of
the nature of the family compact were, that the members were obliged
to maintain peace amongst themselves; that they were not entitled to
appear against each other in a court of justice; and, on the other
hand, that they were called upon to punish members, especially women,
who had violated the right of the family. Before the community, too,
it became answerable for its members. The payment of the forfeited
_wergild_ was, in all cases of offence—which according to ancient
usage and custom claimed revenge—the concern of the whole family.
The family appeared as such an intimate union of its members, that
this responsibility of the whole body for the individual member
commended itself to the sense of justice of the people as a matter of
course. But as it answered for the compensation, and took part in the
payment thereof, and assisted the guilty in order that he might not
forfeit life and limb to his antagonist, so it supplied the accused
also with compurgators from among its members to ward off an unjust
condemnation. In former times this family bond comprehended all
relatives without limitation of degree; but in later days it became
restricted to the nearer kinsfolk.”
The regulations of the Guilds resembled each other. Every Guild
provided for its own masses and church services, and for the burial of
its members, bringing the body to be buried, and providing wax lights,
alms, and masses. Such of the Guilds as could afford it maintained
their own Chaplain; women as well as men were admitted to membership.
Sometimes the Guilds were composed of quite plain and simple folk;
Worcester, it is known, had Guilds of Joiners and Carpenters, and
perhaps of others; Bristol, among others, those of Fullers and Ringers;
Holbeach, of Shepherds; Lynn, of Shipmen; Norwich, of “Peltyers”;
Ludlow, of “Poor Men.” On the other hand, the Town Guild, or Merchant
Guild, contained all the wealthier traders in the town. Sometimes it
happened that men of different trades belonged to the same Guild. Thus
Chaucer:—
“An Haberdasher and a Carpenter
A webbe, a Deyer, and a Tapiser,
Were all y-clothed in liverie
Of a solempne and grete fraternite.”
[Illustration: From Zeller’s _La France Anglaise et Charles VII._]
Some of the Guilds were very popular, and had an immense roll of
members. That of the Corpus Christi, York, is said to have numbered
more than 14,000 members. Its popularity, however, is accounted for
on the ground of the important part it took in the pageants of the
City. The members took an oath of obedience on entrance. There was
an entrance fee and an annual subscription of “housefee,” the amount
varying from place to place, and from time to time. There were also
calls upon the members for burials or for help in case of a member
falling into poverty, and there were legacies. There were special
days appointed for meeting together; the members were summoned by the
Dean or by the common bellman. On the day of meeting they appointed
officers, made agreements, and did other necessary things. On one day
in the year, their Saint’s day, they all put on red hoods and livery,
assembled together, marched to Church, bearing wax tapers, heard mass,
made offerings, and going to the Guild house, or to the house of a
brother, they feasted together in love and good fellowship.
[Illustration: THE SEAL OF THE VINTNERS’ COMPANY, 1437
From Nichol’s _Vintners’ Company_.]
On this day the richer Guilds got up processions, shows, ridings,
pageants, and miracle plays. The internal administration of the Guilds
was by a Master—“Gruuman” or Alderman, stewards or warders, Dean,
and Clerk, the two latter being paid officers. Every Guild had its
own livery. Those Guilds which were purely religious were, like the
Corpus Christi of York, whose purpose was the conduct of a great and
solemn procession, to celebrate one of the most important of Church
doctrines. There were also Guilds for the performance of religious
plays, as the Guilds of St. Elene, of St. Mary, and Corpus Christi at
Beverley. There were Guilds for the repair of bridges and the building
of chapels. There were Guilds of priests, especially the wide-spread
Guild of Kalenders, so called because they, the members, met on the
Kalend or first of every month. This Guild in some places, as at
Bristol, maintained a school. Other Guilds, as that of St. Nicholas in
Worcester, and that of Ludlow, maintained schools. All these Guilds
were eventually swept away with the Dissolution of the Religious Houses.
II. The second kind of Guild was the old Saxon Frith Guild. There
remains the complete code of a Frith Guild of the reign of Athelstan.
In this
“May be recognised a distinct attempt on the part of the public
authorities to supplement the defective execution of the law by
measures for mutual defence ... if it be indeed the act of a voluntary
association, it forms a serious precedent for the action of the
Germanic leagues and the Castilian hermandad of later ages.” (Stubbs.)
After the ordinary rules of the Religious Guild there follow others
connected with the distinct objects of the Society. Every member pays
fourpence, which constitutes an insurance against theft; the Guild
provides one shilling toward the pursuit of the thief. The members
are arranged in bodies of ten, one of whom is the head man; these
again are classed in tens under a common leader, who, with the other
head man, acts as treasurer and adviser of the hundred members. The
objects of the Society are the pursuit and capture of criminals and the
exacting of compensation. As regards the body called the Cnihten Guild,
it is dealt with elsewhere.
III. We next come to the Merchant Guild. This was simply the whole body
of merchants organised for regulation of trade. In a mercantile city
such a Society would of course be extremely powerful.
[Illustration: TOMBSTONE OF WILLIAM WARRINGTON, MASTER MASON, AT
CROYLAND ABBEY, 1427.]
The statutes of the London Guilds were reduced to writing in the time
of King Athelstan. From them Brentano thinks that the Guilds in and
about London were united into one Guild, and to have framed common
regulations for the better maintenance of peace, for the suppression
of violence—especially of theft, and the aggressions of the powerful
families,—as well as for carrying out rigidly the ordinances enacted by
the King for that purpose.
It has already been stated that there are grave difficulties concerning
the Merchant Guild of London. We find all the other towns in the
country petitioning for the Merchant Guild unless they have already
such an institution. But there are no documents at all which show
the operation or the functions of the Merchant Guild of London. Some
historians are of opinion that the Merchant Guild ruled the whole trade
of the City, and that it was a body apart from the Portreeve or the
Mayor and his Aldermen.
Whatever it was before the creation of the Mayor, there can be no
doubt that after that important step all the functions of a Merchant
Guild were discharged by the Mayor and Aldermen. These functions
were, in brief, the regulation of trade. Now, in Riley’s _Memorials_
we have a great number of trades approaching the Mayor and Aldermen
with petitions not to regulate their trade for themselves; but that
the Mayor and Aldermen would be pleased to regulate it in a certain
manner; to bestow upon them certain powers; and to allow them to hale
offenders, not before any court of their own, but before the Mayor and
Aldermen. What is this but the authority of the Merchant Guild?
We have seen the rules of the Religious Guild. Let us now consider the
ordinances submitted to the Mayor and Aldermen by a Craft Company. The
following are those of the Pewterers. They are not the Articles of
Association framed when the Company was founded, but the rules by which
the Company regulated its own work:—
“Unto the Mayor and Aldermen of the City of London pray the good folks,
makers of vessels of pewter in the same City, that it may please
them to hear the state and the points of their trade; and as to the
defaults, for the common profit, by good discretion to provide redress
and amendment thereof; and the points which are proper for folks
who are skilful in the trade, and are duly ordained, to support and
maintain.
[Illustration: COOPERS’ MARKS, A.D. 1420
From _Coopers’ Company Illustrations_ in Guildhall Library.]
In the first place—seeing that the trade of pewtery is founded upon
certain matters and metals, such as copper, tin, and lead, in due
proportions; of which three metals they make vessels, that is to say,
pots, salt-cellars, _esquelles_,[15] _platers_, and other things by
good folks bespoken; which works demand certain mixtures and certain
alloys, according to the manner of vessel so bespoken; the which things
cannot be made without good knowledge of a pewterer, well taught and
well informed in the trade; seeing that many persons, not knowing the
right alloys, nor yet the mixtures or the right rules of the trade,
do work and make vessels and other things not in due manner, to the
damage of the people, and to the scandal of the trade; the good folks
of the trade do pray therefore that it may be ordained that three or
four of the most lawful and most skilful in the trade may be chosen to
oversee the alloys and the workmanship aforesaid; and that by their
examination and assay, amendment may speedily be made where default has
been committed. And that if any one shall be found rebellious against
the Wardens and Assayers, the default may be shown, with the name of
the rebellious offender, unto the Mayor and Aldermen; and that by them
he may be adjudged upon, in presence of the good folks of the trade,
who have found such default. And be it understood, that all manner
of vessels of pewter, such as _esquelles_, salt-cellars, platters,
chargers, _pichers_ squared, and _cruetz_ squared, and chrismatories,
and other things that are made square or ribbed, shall be made of fine
pewter, with the proportion of copper to the tin as much as, of its
own nature, it will take. And all other things that are wrought by the
trade, such as pots rounded, _cruetz_ rounded, and candlesticks and
other rounded vessels that belong to the trade, ought to be wrought of
tin alloyed with lead in reasonable proportions. And the proportions
of alloy are, to one hundred weight of tin 22 pounds of lead; and
these are always called ‘vessels of pewter.’ Also, that no person
shall intermeddle with the trade aforesaid, if he be not sworn before
the good folks of the trade lawfully to work according to the points
ordained; such as one who has been an apprentice, or otherwise a lawful
workman known and tried among them. And that no one shall receive
an apprentice against the usage of the City. And those who shall be
admitted therein, are to be enrolled, according to the usage of the
City.
Also—that no person, freeman, or stranger, shall make or bring such
manner of vessel of pewter into the City for sale, or offer it for
sale, before that material has been assayed, on peril of forfeiture
of the wares. And if the material be allowable upon assay by the
Wardens made, then let the wares be sold for such as they are and not
otherwise. And that no one of the trade shall make privily in secret
vessels of lead, or of false alloy, for sending out of the City to
fairs and to markets for sale, to the scandal of the City, and the
damage and scandal of the good folks of the trade; but let the things
be shown, that shall be so sent to sell without the City, to the
Wardens of the trade before. And no one shall do any work in the trade,
if he will not answer as to his own workmanship, upon the assay of
his work, in whatever hand it be found. And if any one shall be found
from henceforth carrying such wares for sale, to fairs or to markets,
or elsewhere in the kingdom, before it has been assayed, and, before
the Mayor and Aldermen, shall be convicted thereof, let him have his
punishment at their discretion, according to his offence, when he shall
be so convicted at the suit of the good folks of his trade.
[Illustration: PART OF FACSIMILE OF THE ORIGINAL CHARTER GRANTED BY
KING RICHARD III. TO THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF WAX CHANDLERS OF THE
CITY OF LONDON (16 FEB. 1. RICHARD III.)]
Also—if any one shall be found doing damage to his master, whether
apprentice or journeyman, privily in the way of larceny, under the
value of ten pence, the first time, let amends be made unto the master
by him or by his surety in the trade; and if he offend a second time,
let his punishment be inflicted by award of the trade; and if he offend
a third time, let him be ousted from the trade.
Also—as to those of the said trade who shall be found working in the
trade otherwise than is before set forth, and upon assay shall be found
guilty thereof; upon the first default let them lose the material so
wrought; upon the second default let them lose the material, and suffer
punishment at the discretion of the Mayor and Aldermen; and if a third
time they shall be found offending, let them forswear the trade for
evermore.
[Illustration: LIVERYMEN OF LONDON]
And also—the good folks of the trade have agreed that no one shall be
so daring as to work at night upon articles of pewter; seeing that
they have regard among themselves to the fact that the sight is not so
profitable by night, or so certain as by day—to the profit that is,
of the community. And also—that if any one of the said trade shall be
found in default in any of the points aforesaid, he shall pay forty
pence for the first default; for the second, half a mark; and on the
third default, let it be done with him at the discretion of the Mayor
and Aldermen; and of these payments let there be given one-half to
the Chamber, to maintain the points aforesaid, and the other half to
the Wardens of the said trade, for their trouble and their expenses.
And that no one of the trade, great or small, shall take away the
journeyman of another man, against the assent and the will of his first
master, before he shall have fully served his term, according to the
covenant made between them, and before the said journeyman shall have
made amends to his master for the offences and misprisions committed
against him, if he has in any way so offended or misprised, at the
discretion of the Wardens of their trade; and whosoever shall do to the
contrary of this ordinance, let such person have his punishment at the
discretion of the Mayor and Aldermen.
Also—that no one of the said trade shall be so daring as to receive
any one to work at the same trade, if he have not been an apprentice
or if he be not a good workman and one who can have the testimony of
his master, or of good folks of good condition; and can show that well
and lawfully he has served his trade for the time assigned among them.
There were chosen and sworn to oversee the Articles aforesaid—Stephen
Lestraunge and John Syward, _peautrers_.
On Thursday next after the feast of Allhallows (1st November) in the
23rd year of the reign of King Edward the Third, etc., it was witnessed
before Walter Turk, Mayor, and the Aldermen, that Stephen Lestraunge
was dead, and that John Syward could not work; wherefore the reputable
men of that trade chose Nicholas de Ludgate and Ernald Schipwaysshe,
pewterer, who were sworn to keep the Articles aforesaid.” (Riley’s
_Memorials_, p. 241.)
These are the main points. No one can complain that they are drawn up
in the interests of the masters only. It is, however, to be remarked
that the regulation of wages, hours, and prices is not attempted. The
omission was doubtless designed as leaving such points fluctuating from
day to day by arrangement between masters and men.
In the chapter on City Factions it is shown that, a hundred years
before the date of their ordinances (1348), Thomas FitzThomas, the
Mayor, had allowed the trades to draw up statutes for themselves,
and had given them Charters which the following Mayors disallowed.
These statutes, we are told in contemporary authority, had caused
“intolerable loss” to merchants frequenting London. It is reasonable
to conclude that they were drawn up by, and in the interests of, the
craftsmen, and not by those who were able to take a wider view of trade
than protection and high wages.
I have drawn up a list of the trades whose ordinances, as given by
Riley, were submitted to the Mayor and Aldermen in the fourteenth
century, with the dates of the regulations so drafted, and the
subsequent date of the corporation as claimed by the present companies.
This document, like others in Riley’s _Memorials_, is most interesting
as marking a definite stage. The trades have now learned, after a great
deal of quarrelling, vague jealousies and suspicions, to formulate what
they call the “points” of their craft. That their careful and judicious
regulations, such as those I have quoted, were drawn up by the leading
men of the craft, the masters and employers, cannot be doubted. They
are not the work of ignorant men: they bear the impress of shrewd and
experienced employers, whose conclusions and recommendations were drawn
up for them by clerks skilled in the arrangement.
What is it that the Pewterers ask?
1. That the Mayor and Aldermen will consider the points of their
trade, and that they will provide redress for faults.
Observe that they have no authority of their own such as they
afterwards obtained as a company.
2. An assay of the material.
3. Admission, by apprenticeship, “according to the usage of the City.”
4. Protection against “foreigners,” _i.e._ persons not freemen of the
City.
5. No secret profits by making vessels of false alloy for export to
country fairs and markets.
6. The responsibility of every workman for his own work.
7. Penalties for damaging a master’s goods and for infringing the
rules of the craft.
[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE TO THE GRANGERISED EDITION OF BRAYLEY’S
_LONDON AND MIDDLESEX_
In the Guildhall Library, showing the Arms of the twelve principal City
Companies.]
+————————————————————————————————————————————————+—————————+——————————+
| |Submitted| |
| | to | Date of |
| |Mayor and| Company. |
| |Aldermen.| |
+————————————————————————————————————————————————+—————————+——————————+
| | |(Grocers).|
| Ordinances of the Pepperers of Sopere-lane | 1316 | 1345 |
| Regulations made by the Armourers of London | 1322 | 1422 |
| Ordinance of the Tapicers | 1331 | — |
| Ordinances of the trade called “Whittawyers” | 1346 | — |
| „ of the Pewterers | 1348 | 1474 |
| „ of the Glovers | 1349 | 1639 |
| „ of the Shearmen | 1350 | — |
| „ of the Braelers | 1355 | — |
| Regulations for the trade of Masons | 1356 | 1411 |
| Ordinance of the Waxchandlers | 1358 | 1484 |
| Regulations for the trade of the Alien Weavers | | |
| in London | 1362 | — |
| Ordinances of the Plumbers | 1365 | 1612 |
| „ of the Pelterers, or Pellipers | 1365 | — |
| „ of the Tawyers | 1365 | — |
| Regulations for the Taverners | 1370 | — |
| Ordinances of the Court-Hand Writers, or
| Scriveners | 1373 | 1617 |
| „ of the Barbers | 1376 | 1461 |
| „ of the Fullers | 1376 | — |
| „ of the Hurers, as to fulling | 1376 | — |
| „ of the Cheesemongers | 1377 | — |
| „ of the Cooks and Pastelers, or | | |
| Piebakers | 1378 | 1473 |
| „ of the Cutlers | 1380 | 1413 |
| „ of the Founders | 1389 | 1615 |
| „ of the Blacksmiths | 1394 | 1578 |
| „ of the Hurers | 1398 | — |
| Ordinance of the Fletchers | 1403 | 1570 |
| „ of the Writers of Text-letter, | | |
| Limners, and others who bind | | |
| and sell books | 1403 | — |
| „ of the Forcermakers | 1406 | — |
| Ordinances of the Brasiers | 1416 | — |
+————————————————————————————————————————————————+—————————+——————————+
The triumph of the crafts was completed in the reign of Edward the
Third. At the same time it was a triumph which needed constant
watchfulness. This necessity is shown by the case of the rich
Pepperers, who seceded in 1345 and set up a company of their own. They
were so rich that they commanded the Market. A petition was presented
to the King complaining that—
“Great mischief had newly arisen, as well to the King as to the great
men and commons, from the merchants called Grocers (grossers), who
engrossed all manner of merchandize vendible, and who suddenly raised
the prices of such merchandize within the realm; putting to sale
by covin, and by ordinances made amongst themselves, in their own
society, which they call ‘the Fraternity and Gild of Merchants,’ such
merchandizes as were most dear, and keeping in stores the others until
times of dearth and scarcity.” (L. Brentano, _History and Development
of Gilds_, 1870.)
It was, therefore, ordered that in future all “artificers and people of
mysteries” should choose each his own mystery, and should then practise
no other.
What was the power of the incorporated Company? The keynote of the
difference between the Company and the Fraternity was that the former
had authority and the latter had none.
By their new powers, the Companies took over into their own hands the
complete control of their trade. Henceforth the function of the Mayor
was to compose disputes and settle differences between the Companies,
especially in those cases where trades overlapped. The wardens, or the
master and wardens, called meetings of the Livery; at these meetings
regulations were passed; it was the duty of the wardens to enforce the
execution of their own laws. They had the right, which the Fraternities
had obtained of the Mayor, to examine the work and to destroy all that
was “false.” In all matters concerning the Guild the master and wardens
formed the only court: there was no Court of Appeal; their decision
was final. There were certain exceptions to their power; the Mayor
and Aldermen kept in their own hands the sale and the price of bread,
meat, drink and fuel. The punishments were, for light offences, fines,
either of money, of wax, or of beer and wine. For serious offences
expulsion from the Guild was the worst and last punishment. A man so
expelled could not any longer practise his trade in the City. We hear
also of ’prentices being flogged for acts of dishonesty or immorality.
Every man who practised any trade in the City must needs belong to
the Company of this trade. There would have been no power, otherwise,
to enforce their laws. What would be the good of calling order for
the execution of good work if a colony of workmen set up in the City
and refused to obey those laws or to enter their company? It was for
self-preservation that this rule was enforced. Afterwards it became a
weapon of oppression when the number of members was limited.
The care with which the Companies provided for good work was equalled
by the jealousy with which they regarded the admission of new members.
They looked to the moral character of a workman as well as his mastery
over the craft. They made him serve an apprenticeship varying from
seven to ten years. They received the boy in a manner calculated to
impress upon his mind the importance of the duties upon which he
was entering. At the close of his time he was, with like solemnity,
received as a member of the Company, and, therefore, a free man of the
City.
Next to looking after the young men, the Company looked after the
tools. These were to be inspected regularly; they were to be “testified
as good and honest.” The hours were fixed: no one was to work longer
than from the beginning of the day till curfew, nor at night by
candle-light. One Company, that of the weavers, forbade any work
between Christmas and the Purification (Feb. 2). No one was to work
on Sunday, or on festivals, or on the eve of a double feast, or on
Saturday afternoons. The working men lost their Saturday half-holiday
by the Reformation; it has taken them 300 years to get it back again.
As for the ordinances which regulated the conduct of members toward
each other, I may pass them over. They were wise; they did what was
possible to prevent over-reaching, underselling, taking good servants
from a brother member, selling to one member indebted to another
member, and, in a word, creating and keeping alive the feeling of
brotherhood. Provision was made for those who fell into poverty. As
long as any member remained out of work no member was allowed to employ
any non-member; and the wife and children of a member might work at the
trade with the husband or the father.
[Illustration: WILLIAM SMALLWOOD, MASTER OF THE PEWTERERS’ COMPANY
From Welch’s _History of the Pewterers’ Company_.]
In course of time, very speedily in fact, abuses crept in. The trades
began to limit the number of members; the richer members seceded and
formed other companies—the shoemakers left the cobblers, the tanners
left the shoemakers; masters withheld their wages from the workmen;
journeymen were not allowed to work on their own account; nor could
they become masters; there were strikes among the men, especially
in the building trade; the journeymen formed companies of their own
which they used for the purpose of raising wages; in the year 1383 a
proclamation forbade the combination of workmen. Among the combinations
so suppressed were those of the “yomen” saddlers and the “yomen”
tailors.
The ground thus cleared, the masters could use the Companies entirely
for their own profit and advantage. They endeavoured more and more to
restrict the number of members, and to make the handicrafts of London
the monopoly of a few families; in this attempt they were only too
successful; in the sixteenth century Bacon calls the City Companies
“fraternities of evil.” The masters made the apprentices swear that
they would not carry on trade on their own account without the masters’
consent. The weakness of the law is shown in the failure of Henry’s law
(1537); fixing the entrance fee of an apprentice at 2s. 6d., it rose to
40s., to £10; in the time of James the First to £20, £60, and £100; and
in 1720 to £500 and more.
As to the further degeneration and the final ruin of the Craft Guilds,
I refer again to Luigo Brentano.[16]
“As the Craft-Gilds everywhere had sunk down to mere societies
for the investment of capital, and as their dividends depended
entirely on the exclusion of competition, it was unavoidable that
the spirit of gain should lead them to restrictions which became
always more oppressive for the public. The annoyances they caused
were considerably increased by a process which, after the sixteenth
century, was of frequent occurrence in all countries; those
Craft-Gilds namely, which had hitherto comprised kindred crafts,
split up into several, according to the individual trades. These
then watched each other with the utmost jealousy in order to prevent
encroachments on their mutual rights, and continually fought each
other in endless lawsuits. Thus, for instance, the Fletchers and
Bowyers in London separated themselves into two corporations in the
reign of Elizabeth. One might wonder that, on the one hand, the
workmen, whose position was so much deteriorated by the degeneration
of the Craft-Gilds, did not at once overthrow their dominion, as
the Craft-Gilds had formerly superseded the degenerated Gilds of
the patricians, and that, on the other hand, the State did not, in
the interest of the public, take any steps towards the abolition of
the Gilds, which had already been desired so often. But as to the
working-men, though their position, and especially their prospects,
had been greatly deteriorated by this degeneration of the Craft-Gilds,
their interest was rather a reformation, than the abolition, of those
bodies. The Craft-Gilds maintained a number of regulations, which
protected the working-men, and in consequence of which their material
position appears comfortable and free from cares, if compared with
that of the factory hands at the beginning of this century, when these
regulations no longer existed. Uprisings of working-men are therefore
to be found in those days only in consequence of infringements
of Gild-regulations. But as for a reformation of the Craft-Gilds
according to the interests of the working-men, the latter were not
powerful enough to carry it out against their masters. These still
held strongly together in their Gilds, and did not yet, as in later
times (and as formerly the patricians), rival each other in weakening
competition. The State also had changed, and no longer consisted,
as before, of an organisation of many smaller states. As, after the
sixteenth century, the State became in all countries continually more
centralised by its kinds, it was not possible for the journeymen
to act with the same facility as the craftsmen had acted in former
times in the towns. Moreover, owing to the men’s isolated method of
working, they had not yet acquired the same feeling of solidarity, or
the same consciousness of the power of masses, as our factory hands
since have. And as to the State abolishing the Craft-Gilds, Kings
used the bourgeoisie as a support; first, as Henry VII. in England,
against the nobility; and then, because they needed them for pecuniary
reasons.... The causes of the overthrow of the Craft-Gilds arose in
the bourgeoisie itself. These causes were, the rise of large capital,
and its investment in manufacture. The 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary
already indicates the commencement. After stating that ‘the rich
clothiers do oppress the weavers, some by setting up and keeping in
their houses divers looms, and maintaining them by journeymen and
other persons unskilful; some by engrossing of looms into their hands,
and letting them out at such unreasonable rents as the poor artificers
are not able to maintain themselves by, and much less their wives and
families; some again by giving less wages for the workmanship of cloth
than in times past, whereby they are forced utterly to forsake their
occupations, etc.; it is enacted that no clothier, living out of a
city, burgh, or market-town, shall keep more than two looms, nor more
than two apprentices,’ etc. In short, the Act endeavours to protect
the small masters against the competition of the rich capitalists. But
neither this Act nor all the other attempts of the corporations could
restrain the process of development, which, especially in consequence
of a series of technical discoveries, threw manufacture altogether
into the hands of the large capitalists. Handicrafts, and the
corporations together with them, lost continually in importance, and
only made themselves hated and despised in their endeavour to arrest
the natural progress of event.”
Let us sum up the origin and development of the Guild.
1. We have the family united for the protection of all its members,
standing by each other, liable for each other.
2. Next we have the association of neighbours together, of many
families, to form guilds of religion and brotherly love and mutual
protection.
3. The crafts are found uniting for trade purposes, regulating the
production, jealously watching the standards of work, fixing hours of
work and prices, excluding foreigners, and importing raw material.
These trade unions had no powers other than those obtained by common
agreement.
4. The formation of a Merchant Guild.
5. The rise of a City aristocracy who usurp the power, own the City
land, impose taxes, and are insolent towards the craftsmen.
6. The revolt of the crafts against the aristocracy and their ultimate
victory after a long struggle.
7. The creation of trade or craft companies, not guilds, solely for
trade purposes, under ordinances approved by the Mayor.
8. The conquest of power by the new companies.
9. The complete subjection of the craftsmen for five hundred years to
their own companies.
PART II
ECCLESIASTICAL LONDON
CHAPTER I
THE RELIGIOUS LIFE
If churches and religious houses make up religion, then London of the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries surely attained the highest point
ever reached in religion. The Church was everywhere. In Appendices IV.
and V. will be found a list of the Parish Churches and their patronage.
The abbeys, priories, nunneries, and friaries contained a vast army of
ecclesiastics from archbishop to Franciscan friar: hermits, anchorites,
pardoners, limitours, somnours, church officers of all kinds, were
everywhere in evidence. No street but reminded the citizens by the
sight of a spire or a wall, that the Church was with him always, to
rule his life and to shorten his period of purgatory, on the simple
condition of his obedience. Religion endeavoured to rule the whole of
society: religion claimed to control the whole conduct of politics and
political economy: but the power of religion has never been equal to
her ambition: religion could not put a stop to war, or to the violences
and outrages of war. Had she been able to do so, the world would now
be held and bound in chains and slavery. Yet it was well that there
should be the Church to restrain men in some degree. She kept in her
own hands, so far, all learning, all science, all the arts, all the
professions. The forms, duties, and rules of the Church attended all
men from infancy to the grave. At the bidding of the Church the whole
nation, from the King downwards, renounced meat for a fourth part of
the whole year. This fact alone marks the enormous power of the Church.
For hundreds of years the Church preached respect for human life and
self-restraint with more or less vigour, and with more or less success.
Sometimes the Church has fallen upon evil times; her ecclesiastics have
been ambitious, worldly, licentious, avaricious; but they have always
been, as a whole, superior to the world around them. Thus it may be
said that the Church might always have been better, but that the world
was always worse.
Let us, then, briefly examine into what was meant by the Religious Life
of London in the fourteenth century.
There were a hundred and twenty-six parish churches in London. This
seems an enormous number for a population of not more than 120,000
or thereabouts. But we have to remember what the Church did for the
people. The daily services; the chanting of the daily masses for
living and for dead; the funerals, the weddings, the baptisms, the
visitation of the sick, the direction of Fraternities, the countless
observances and customs of religion, for all these things the Church
was the centre, and the parish clergy were the directors.
The boundaries of a parish were not at first rigidly laid down; they
overlapped the ward boundaries; they were matters of agreement: it
was not until the Poor Law made the definition necessary, that the
boundaries were finally and exactly laid down.
The multiplication of parishes was partly due, no doubt, to the desire
of expiating sins by building, endowing, and decorating a Church for
the good of the Founder’s soul. The census of the City, taken at any
time between the ninth and the fifteenth centuries, would certainly
show an almost stationary figure, lowered upon a visitation of plague,
or raised after a long interval without plague, pestilence, fire, or
famine. The average represented about a thousand souls to every church.
The origin of the City churches cannot, as a rule, be ascertained.
The oldest dedications of the churches seem to show that the London
parishes were settled before the Norman Conquest: most of the London
churches were probably built in or about the eighth century during that
strange outburst of religious enthusiasm, the first of so many which
have swept over the country.
London was a city of churches: one could not escape the sight of the
green churchyard, the trees standing over the graves, and the little
church among them. Nor could one get away from the sound of the church
bells. All day long, from daybreak until night, the bells were ringing,
not only from the churches, but also from the monastic houses. High
above the stroke of anvil, and the multitudinous roar of the industrial
city, rolled and clanged and resounded the continual clash of the
bells. What the boy Whittington heard at Highgate was not the chime of
Bow Church alone; it was the sound of the bells of all the churches and
all the convents of London ringing together.
I have estimated roughly that, with the parish churches and their
property, a full quarter of the City was occupied by the religious
houses and the places they owned. As for the proportion of the
population which was supported by the Church, we may form an idea by
taking the case of St. Paul’s Cathedral alone:—
In the year 1450 the Society, a Cathedral body, included the
following: the Bishop, the Dean, the four Archdeacons, the Treasurer,
the Precentor, the Chancellor, thirty greater Canons, twelve lesser
Canons, about fifty Chaplains or chantry Priests, and thirty Vicars.
Of inferior rank to these were the Sacrist and three Vergers, the
Succentor, the Master of the Singing-school, the Master of the
Grammar-school, the Almoner and his four Vergers, the Servitors, the
Surveyor, the twelve Scribes, the Book Transcriber, the Book-binder,
the Chamberlain, the Rent-Collector, the Baker, the Brewer, the
Lavenders (washermen), the Singing-men and Choir Boys, of whom priests
were made, the Bedesmen, and the poor folk. To these must be added
the servants of all these officers—the brewer, who brewed, in the
year 1286, 67,814 gallons, must have employed a good many; the baker,
who ovened every year 40,000 loaves, or every day more than a hundred
large and small; the sextons, grave-diggers, gardeners, bell-ringers,
makers and menders of the ecclesiastical robes, cleaners and sweepers,
carpenters, masons, painters, carvers, and gilders—one can very well
understand that the Church of St. Paul’s found a livelihood for a
thousand at least.
[Illustration:
_The Photochrom Co. Ltd._
ST. ETHELBURGA’S CHURCH, BISHOPSGATE STREET]
The same equipment was necessary in every other religious foundation.
Not a monastery but had its great and lesser officers and their
servants. In every one there were the bell-ringers, the singing-men
and boys, the vergers, the gardeners, the brewers, bakers, cooks,
messengers, scribes, rent-collectors, and all of them were complete in
themselves, as was St. Paul’s, though on a smaller scale. Then if we
consider the Parish Churches. In some cases two priests were attached
to each Church for the daily services: if there were, say, fifteen
chantries, and in some there were many more, belonging to each, we have
over 2000 priests for the parish churches alone; there were, next, the
people belonging to each church: the choir, the sacrist, the organist,
the beadle, the sexton, the anchorite or ankress, say an average, in
all, of a hundred, including the families of those who were married.
This makes some 12,000 souls living upon the endowments and revenues of
the City Churches.
If there were eighty monks at St. Peter’s, Westminster, there were at
least a hundred people, all of them married and with families, in their
service. Now there were, large and small, about twenty-five Religious
Houses in and outside London. If we take an average of seventy people
of various trades attached to and living by each House, and an average
of thirty brethren and sisters, we have nearly 7000 people belonging to
them. To sum up, therefore, there were nearly 20,000 people in the City
of London and its suburbs engaged in working for, and living by, the
Churches and the Religious Houses. About one-fifth of the population of
London lived by the Church. This is a moderate estimate. The proportion
of ecclesiastics and their servants to the general population was
probably much higher.
The Bishop, in the eyes of London, was the greatest person in the
country next to the King: he lived among the people and was their
natural protector: he had his Palace within the precinct, in the
north-west of the Cathedral; he attended the Church on all the great
Festivals—Christmas, Easter, Ascension, Whitsunday, the Festivals
of St. Paul and St. Erkenwald, and also on Maundy Thursday and Ash
Wednesday (see Appendix VI.). He observed the greatest state possible
when he rode forth: there went with him, as he journeyed from one to
the other of his country houses, forty persons at least, including his
squires, his chaplains, the young monks entrusted to his care, and his
servants: he was profuse in charity: he was stately in his carriage and
splendid in his dress. As in the days of William the Conqueror, so in
those of Edward the Third, the Bishop of London, with the Mayor, stood
for the City, but the Mayor stood behind the Bishop.
The Cathedral, in the midst of the City, belonged to all alike: its
splendid services, the singing of the choir, the rolling of the organ,
the procession of priests with their white and gold copes, the ringing
of the bell every day seven times from daybreak till curfew for as many
services, the shrines of the saints, flaming with gold and precious
stones and rich embroideries, especially those of St. Erkenwald, St.
Ethelburga, and St. Mellitus, all these things appealed to the citizen
and kept him loyal to the faith.
[Illustration: THE PRIORESS
From the Ellesmere MS.]
[Illustration: THE MONK AND HIS GREYHOUNDS]
There were, after the Cathedral dignitaries, the parish priests and
the chantry priests, with the great army of those who lived by the
altar; the anchorites and the hermits, the monks and friars, the nuns
and sisters, all the people who formed the service of the monastic
houses, the hospitals for the sick, the houses for the insane, the
lepers’ houses, the schools, and the colleges. The last named were
not places of education, but colleges of priests, of which All Souls,
Oxford, and the College of Dulwich are two survivals. In London there
were the Colleges of St. Thomas of Acon, in Cheapside, where is now
Mercers’ Hall; that of St. Spirit and St. Mary founded by Whittington
for a Master and four Fellows with clerks, conducts, choristers, and
an almshouse; St. Michael’s, Crooked Lane, for a Master and nine
Fellows; Jesus’ Commons for priests; and St. Augustine’s Papey for
old and infirm priests. Quiet and pleasant places all, where life
gently glided along; where there were no duties but the daily mass, no
Rule, no Austerities—the ideal life for the scholar among the books
of the library; and for those who loved to sit apart and meditate
among the trees and flower-beds of the garden in summer, or in the
glazed cloisters sheltered from the cold wind and frost of winter.
Outside, in the work-a-day world, what did the people think and
believe? The history of religion, or of religious thought, in London,
cannot be separated from that of the whole country. It is a history
of enthusiasms in successive waves. When the whole of England—in the
eighth century—understood, with a new and overwhelming sense, the
reality of Christianity; when Kings and Queens, Earls and Thanes
and noble ladies crowded into the monasteries, there to prepare for
the next world, compared with which this present world is not worth
considering, then the people of London for their part rebuilt the Abbey
of Westminster, and founded the House of St. Martin-le-Grand; they
divided London into parishes and erected parish churches; they created
guilds for the spiritual nourishment of those who could not enter the
Religious House.
During the two hundred years of struggle with the Danes and Normans,
these Houses were destroyed, or, if they survived, were carried on with
fewer brethren and a more slender endowment.
When order returned, and a strong King made it possible for men to
live without the weapons of war at hand, the mind of the people,
always a profoundly religious people, turned again to the realities
of the unseen world. Once more there awakened the sense of change
and decay and the worthlessness of things fleeting. The Court
Jesters—converted—founded hospitals; the City Fathers handed over the
lands of the City to the newly founded House of the Holy Trinity.
Monasteries, nunneries, and colleges sprang up everywhere. The new
foundations satisfied the people for another hundred years or so.
Then they woke up once more in the old way. The religious life, they
discovered, is not always found in the Religious House; the hood does
not make the monk. The Friars came over to the country; they showed the
people a new kind of religious life; one not separated from the world,
but moving and living in the world; one that saves the soul by losing
it and mounts to Heaven by the prayers and gratitude of men and women
whom it has lifted from the mire and slough of sin and disease and
misery. No more noble form of Christianity can be presented. Francis
discovered the very mind of the Founder.
For a hundred years and more the Friars kept alive the new religion.
This fell off; but their early teaching survived, and was the
foundation of Lollardy. When the Religious Houses were suppressed, the
people of London looked on without a protest; their work was done; the
City was again waking up to a new enthusiasm. The Reformation, the many
sects of the new Faith, the fanaticism of the seventeenth century, the
enthusiasm of the eighteenth, the Evangelical domination, the return of
High Church doctrine, the development of Ritual, all these things are
but manifestations of the same spirit which caused the Revival under
Henry the Fourth and the Puritanism of the Civil Wars. Many changes
pass over the face of London, but deep down lies, unchanged, the
ancient spirit of religion.
[Illustration: CHANTRY CHAPEL OF HENRY V. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY
From Grangerised Edition of Brayley’s _London and Middlesex_ in
Guildhall Library.]
In the Parish Church, generally a small building erected by some
citizen who got a bit of the City carved out for his parish, there was
little splendour. Every day mass was said in the morning, and vespers
in the evening, by the Parish Priest: every morning the Chantry priests
before the side altars sang mass for the souls of their founders.
On All Souls’ Day the Parish Priest sang mass for the souls of all
Christian men and women. There was many a poor faithful woman who could
not find the money to pay for a Chantry or an obit, or an Annual, for
the soul of her husband or her son—though well she knew, poor creature,
how much he wanted that assistance. But she took comfort in the thought
that so long as the world should last that yearly mass would be said
for the benefit of all poor souls in pain.
The endowment of a Chantry generally provided for one priest, but often
for two, in some cases for three, and in one, that of Adam de Bury in
1364, for seven priests. In the fourteenth century there were more
than 70 chantries in St. Paul’s alone. There were also 111 obits or
foundations for occasional masses—making altogether an income of £183:
18: 3-1/2.
In the reign of Richard the Second, Bishop Braybroke found that some of
the chantries had fallen into decay, the endowments having been lost
or wasted. He united some of the poorer ones. He also ordained that
no beneficed priest should hold a chantry, and laid down regulations
for the chantry priests. They were to attend the choir offices day and
night; they were to take part in processions, funerals, and they were
to live in Houses provided for them or in the chambers of Chantries.
These priests seem to have given a great deal of trouble by the
scandals which they caused. It must be remembered that they were not
persons, as a rule, of scholarly habits; that their sole duty consisted
in the daily mass for the soul of their Founder; and that they had the
whole day to get through in idleness. They were also extremely poor,
the average stipend being £5 a year, equivalent to something like £75.
Archbishop Sudbury, in 1378, spoke of them in the strongest terms of
reproach, summing up his enumeration of their vices by saying that
their lives tended “in virorum ecclesiasticorum detestabile scandalum,
et exemptum perniciosissimum laicorum.”
It is not possible, I think, to make out how far the London craftsman
assisted at the Functions of the Church. At least once a year he must
go to Confession. The Pope made that rule in 1215. The craftsman
probably went to Confession at one of the greater festivals. Every
Sunday morning he must be present at mass. That duty was then, as now,
imposed on every faithful child of the Church. This law, doubtless,
he did obey. There were dues to be paid: he had to pay them; there
were friars who came begging: he contributed of his poverty; and he
must fast in Lent and on Fridays and on certain other days—about a
hundred days in all. In this point he must needs obey, because the
butchers’ shops were closed, and he could buy no meat. He had to get
married; to get the children baptized; to pay dues for the Vigil of
the Dead. Another important function performed by the clergy was the
reconciliation of enemies and the settlement of disputes by “love
days.” There are many references to the love days. _Piers Plowman_
constantly talks about them, and with bitterness, as if the Church made
the office of Peacemaker a means of enriching herself. Riley quotes an
ordinance forbidding people to make disturbances by getting up love
days.
[Illustration: EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND RECEIVING MASS
Harl. MS. 1319.]
The memory of one of these love days has been preserved ever since
the year 1484, when a dispute between two Companies of the City of
London was finally adjusted. It was on the 10th of April 1484 that
the Lord Mayor and the Aldermen decided a long-standing dispute
between the Company of Merchant Taylors and the Company of Skinners as
follows:—“The said Mayor and Aldermen, the day and year above said
taking upon them the rule, direction, and charge of arbitrament of, and
in the premises, ‘for norishing of peas and love between the Masters
Wardeyns and Fellashipps aforesaid’ adjudged and awarded that the
Masters and Wardens should dine each year together at their respective
Halls; the Taylors with the Skinners on the Vigil of Corpus Christi;
and the Skinners with the Taylors on the Feast of Nativity of St. John
Baptist; and as to precedency each Company was to take that on each
alternate year save that a Mayor of either should give that Company
precedence in his year of office.”
So the Decree has been observed 414 years, while “peas and love” have
reigned between the two Fellowships.
In the twelfth century we find the London clergy married, and married
into families of the highest position. Their marriage, therefore, was
not looked upon by the people, although forbidden by the Church, as in
any way blameworthy. In the Synod of 1108, and in that of 1125, both
held in London, the most stringent rules were laid down against the
marriage of priests. The title of wife was denied their wives, who were
called concubines; yet the priests continued to marry. Even in the
sixteenth century, when Skelton took Sanctuary against the wrath of
Wolsey, he brought his wife and children with him.
In the thirteenth century a renewed effort was made to enforce celibacy
as rigidly as could be done. The clergy of the towns, of London at
least, were compelled to keep celibate, but not those of the country
where the arm of the Bishop was weak. Holinshed, for instance, speaks
of the methods adopted in the year 1225 (ii. 358):—
“This yeare also, there came foorth a decree from the archbishop
of Canterburie, and his suffragans, that the concubines of preests
and clearkes within orders (for so were their wives then called in
contempt of their wedlocke) should be denied of Christian buriall,
except they repented whilest they were alive in perfect health, or
else showed manifest tokens of repentance at the time of their deaths.
The same decree also prohibited them from the receiving of the pax
at masse time, and also of holie bread after masse, so long as the
preests kept them in their houses, or used their companie publikelie
out of their houses. Moreover, that they should not be purified when
they should be delivered of child, as other good women were, unless
they found sufficient suertie to the archdeacon, or his officiall,
to make satisfaction at the next chapter or court to be holden after
they should be purified. And the preests should be suspended, which
did not present all such their concubines as were residant within
their parishes. Also, all such women as were convict to have dealt
carnallie with a preest were appointed by the same decree to doo
open penance. Where the question may be asked, whether this decree
was extended to preests’ wives or no? Whereunto answer may be made,
that as a quadrangle in geometrie compriseth in it a triangle, and
a quaternion in arithmetic conteineth a ternion; so in logike a
universall proposition comprehendeth a particular. But it is said here,
that all such women as had carnal knowledge with a preest, were to be
punished, therefore some, and consequentlie all preests’ wives. But
yet this seemeth not to be the meaning of that decree, for preests
were allowed no wives, naie Sericius the pope judged that all such of
the cleargie as had wives could not please God, bicause they were in
carne, which words he and the residue of that litter restreined to
marriage, admitting that in no case churchmen should injoy the rights
of matrimonie. Wherein they offer God great injurie, in seeking to
limit that large institution of wedlocke, wherein all estates are
interressed.”
In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we find the natural harvest
and fruit of this enforced celibacy.
It is not my desire to bring railing accusations against the morals of
the clergy. It is, however, quite certain that if a large body of men
without much learning or love of learning, to whom is assigned work
which occupies them for a very small portion of the day, are forbidden
to marry, and if they live for the most part among the lower classes in
the City, drinking freely, and as much as they can afford, the result
will be, must be, the prevalence of immorality among them. There are
plenty of examples and proofs of this condition of things. There is
the case in 1385 of Elizabeth Moring, who received girls nominally
as apprentices, but really to live a lewd life, and “to consort with
friars, chaplains, and other such men.” In 1406 we read of one William
Langford, chaplain, taken in adultery with Margaret, wife of Richard
Dod. In 1255 a certain Chaplain and Parish Priest took Sanctuary in St.
Paul’s and confessed to having stolen sixteen silver dishes. In 1320 a
Chaplain is taken up for being a Night Walker and carrying arms against
the peace. In 1416 William Cratford, a priest, is reported as a common
and notorious thief and hawker on the roads. In 1408 Riley reports that
the Letter Book about this time (Henry IV.-Henry VI.) contains “some
dozens of similar charges,” viz. of fornication and adultery. The way
they tried to check the vice and punish the offender was by forbidding
any one to pay or engage the incriminated clerk. This was done in 1413,
when two priests of St. Bride’s, Fleet Street, were taken in adultery
at the same time with two women in the Church. How far can William of
Langland be trusted in setting forth the truth without exaggeration?
One knows not. In _Piers Plowman_, however, the figure of Sloth is a
priest. He confesses (Skeat’s Edition, B. Passus v. p. 168):—
“I have be prest and parsoun passynge thretti wynter,
Gete can I neither solfe [Sol-Fa] ne synge ne seyntes lyues rede,
But I can fynde in a felde or in a fourlonge [furrow] an hare,
Better than in _beatus vir_ or in _beati omnes_
Construe oon clause wel and kenne it to my parochienes.
I can holde lovedays and here a reve’s rekenynge,
Ac in canoun ne in decretales I can nought rede a line.”
Many other things point to the scandalous lives of the religious. Thus,
the Bishop of Lincoln—not London,—in the reign of Henry III., visiting
the religious houses in his diocese, searched the bedrooms and the
beds of the monks and friars, and caused examination of the closest
possible kind to be made in the nunneries. This would hardly be done
without grave suspicions and reports.
Another crying scandal in the Church was the appointment of foreigners
to high offices and benefices.
In the year 1245 an inventory was compiled of all benefices held by
foreigners and appointed by the Pope. It was found that the sum of
60,000 marks was annually paid to these foreigners. This means almost
a million of our money. The bitterness that this caused was so strong
that in many parts the people refused to pay their tithe or their
dues. There are other indications of hostility to the pretensions of
the Pope. A certain Carthusian of London was brought before the Legate
for teaching that Gregory was not the true Pope. The monks of Durham
refused to obey the Papal ordinance, which commanded every one who was
appointed as Abbot to proceed to Rome, there to receive the Pope’s
blessing. And the Archbishop of York, refusing to bestow the revenues
of his diocese on Italians and foreigners, was cursed by the Pope with
bell, book, and candle. This resistance, however, was before its time;
it was, in fact, two hundred years too soon.
In the year 1222 we hear of certain cases of cruel death inflicted for
religious reasons. They did not occur in London, but at Oxford. A man
was brought before the Council at that City charged with personating
Christ Himself—Holinshed says two, but Matthew of Westminster says
one, and it is impossible that two persons should both at the same
time pretend to be Christ. The impostor showed the stigmata upon his
hands and feet and in his side: he is said to have preached against
the abuses of the ecclesiastics. Indeed, there was never any time when
these abuses were more flagrant than in the reign of Henry the Third.
The man was clearly an enthusiast, one who had gradually become mad
with religious fervour, until he actually persuaded himself that he
was the Christ whose religion he tried to preach. The other was the
enthusiast’s follower and disciple. With them were two women,—when was
there ever enthusiast without a pious woman at his side? One of these
poor creatures had been assured by the leader that she was the Virgin
Mary, and the other that she was Mary Magdalene. Both of them, of
course, firmly believed the assurance. The whole four were tried, the
leader was actually crucified, in mockery of his pretensions, and the
women were “condemned,” most likely, to be burned.
[Illustration: INTERESTING ANTIQUITIES IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY
The Devil with a Monk on his shoulders. A carving in wood supporting
one of the seats of the Knights of the Bath in Henry VII’s Chapel. It
is much mutilated.
A Monk at his prayers.
In the Chapel of S^t. Paul.
Philippa duchess of York died Anno 1433.
S^t. Nicholas Chapel.
Head which supports a large Beam
in the Chamber under the Roof at
the east end near Henry VII’s Chapel.
A Woman beating a Monk with her distaff. A carving in wood under one of
the seats of the Knights of the Bath in Henry VII’s Chapel.
The Coronation Chair.]
Against these examples of crime and ignorance may be set the fact that
there was never any such violent and unanimous attack upon the secular
clergy as we find against the friars. And we may fairly conclude that
Chaucer’s portrait of the Parson was drawn from the life, and that
there were among the London clergy many who might have sat for models:—
“A good man was ther of religioun,
And was a povre PERSOUN of a toun;
But riche he was of holy thoght and werk.
He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche;
His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.
Benigne he was, and wonder diligent,
And in adversitee ful pacient;
And swich he was y-preved ofte sythes.
Ful looth were him to cursen for his tythes,
But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute,
Un-to his povre parisshens aboute
Of his offring, and eek of his substaunce.
He coude in litel thing han suffisaunce ...
This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf,
That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte;
Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte;
And this figure he added eek ther-to,
That if gold ruste, what shal iren do?
For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste,
No wonder is a lewed man to ruste;
And shame it is, if a preest take keep,
A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep.
Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive,
By his clennesse, how that his sheep shold live.”
“A bettre preest, I trowe that nowher noon is.
He wayted after no pompe and reverence,
He maked him a spyced conscience,
But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,
He taughte, and first he folwed it him-selve.”
Chaucer makes the wife of the miller of Trumpington daughter of a
priest and brought up in a nunnery. On this fact Skeat has a note[17]
of comment.
“The statement, that the parson of the town was her father, has caused
surprise. In Bell’s _Chaucer_ the theory is started that the priest
had been a widower before he took orders, which no one can be expected
to believe; it is too subtle. It is clear that she was an illegitimate
daughter; that is why her father paid money to get her married to a
miller, and why she thought ladies ought to spare her (and not to avoid
her), because it was an honour to have a priest for a father, and
because she had learnt so much good-breeding in a nunnery.”
The Religious Life of a Mediæval City largely consisted of the monastic
life, and this again was divided between the monks and the friars.
The references to Monks and Monkery in London are, on the whole,
good-humoured, from which we may infer that there was little in the way
of serious scandal as regards their lives. The easy-going citizens did
not expect the most ascetic life in the world from the monks and nuns,
who were their own cousins, brothers, or sisters; they recognised it,
however, when they found it: for instance, they held the Carthusians
in the highest possible reverence, as a body of Religious who adhered
strictly to an austere Rule: never ate meat, and never went outside the
walls of the House. As regards the other monks, those of Holy Trinity,
those of St. Bartholomew’s, those of Westminster, those of St. Mary
Overies, it seems certain that they were latterly all of good family;
that the austerity of the Rule had been very much relaxed; that the
life of the Monastery was, as a rule, decent and dull; that it was very
far from being conducive to the development of genius or learning; that
it offered place and encouragement to piety of the gentler as well as
the more austere kind; that it formed a home for younger sons; that
it did not provoke animosity or indignation among the citizens. The
well-known case of St. Alban’s, quoted by Froude,[18] had it happened
in London, would surely have become known by the people. Chaucer, who
reflects the general feeling, has no bitterness at all towards the
monk. He depicts him as fond of hunting; he is an “out-rider,” one who
can go abroad on the business of the House; he rides a good horse—
“And whan he rood, men might his brydel here
Ginglen in a whistling wind as clere
And eek as loude as doth the Chapel belle.”
He kept hounds; all his “lust” was in “priking and in hunting of the
hare”; he was dressed as a layman; he was fat and in good point; “he
was not pale as a for-pyned ghost,”—a picture of a man whose thoughts,
indeed, were not wholly set on things spiritual. Chaucer certainly
compared the man with the austere monk designed by the Rule he
professed, but without bitterness. He grants the old proverb,
“That a monk when he is cloistreless
Is lykened til a fish that is waterless”
(a proverb also quoted by William of Langland), but in order to show
that the contemporary monk was not of that opinion he adds:—
“Thilke texte held he not worth an oistre.”
The rich clothing and unclerical garb of the monks outside the
cloister, and their fondness for hunting, are the principal charges
brought against them in the fourteenth century.
[Illustration: SAVOY CHAPEL AND PALACE
Drawn by Schnebbelie and engraved by Warren for Dr. Hughson’s
_Description of London_.]
Let us consider the actual life of a monk, a Benedictine monk. To begin
with, it is a great mistake to suppose that an Abbey was always and
for choice planted in some remote and secluded spot. As the people
of the eleventh and twelfth centuries no more acted without good and
sufficient cause than we their descendants, there must have been a
very good reason to justify the foundation of so many Religious Houses
within and without the walls of the City of London. Dear to many were
the quiet meadows beside the rushing stream, beneath the hanging woods,
far from the noise of men, of Tintern, of Fountains, of Dryburgh,
or of Blanchland: dearer to others the thought of the life close to
those walls, which held so much of violence, passion, ambition, and
crime, which their very presence would calm and shame and admonish;
of the men broken and ruined, of the women disgraced, to whom these
quiet cloisters offered a resting-place; why, to the very worst, the
most hardened of murderous ruffians, to such as Chaucer’s shipman,
pirate and murderer, the daily prospect of these walls, the ringing
of the bells, the voices chanting Litany and Laud, the sight of the
friars going about among them, the knowledge that these men and women
lived in abstinence from all that the world called pleasure; that they
possessed no property; that they desired none of the things which the
world desires; this reflection, the obtrusion of these facts, acted
as a continual admonition and call to repentance. Of course there was
the danger, the continual danger, always present in human affairs,
of the relaxation of the Rule; the loss of the first enthusiasm; the
decay of the first intention. A Benedictine who rides abroad dressed
like a knight with hawk and hound, for whom a hundred manors send up
their rent, their wheat and their game; who keeps a splendid table;
who admits to his order only young men well born; to whom the place
is like the College of All Souls, a House of Fellows with no duties,
ceases to be regarded with reverence on account of reputed piety. When
not even the memory is left of the early piety; when the air is thick
with stories of incontinence and greed; when the land is everywhere
parcelled out among the religious; then they become intolerable, and
must be swept away. We shall have to return to this subject. Meantime
let us consider the monastic life at a time when the monasteries
were at their wealthiest, and when the ancient Rule, although very
far relaxed, had not yet become an object of common contempt, when
the monks and friars had not yet quite fallen from their ancient
reputation. The time chosen for this view of the monastic life is that
before the Wars of the Roses, which greatly impoverished the Religious
Houses and at the same time deprived them of novices. Just as the first
incursions of the Danes emptied the Anglican and Saxon Monasteries, so
the long Wars of the Roses called out the younger as well as the elder
sons to the wars. Now, by this time, the rich monasteries were entirely
recruited from the younger sons of the gentry. Great nobles placed
their children in monasteries. Thus, Ralph, Earl of Westmoreland, had
twenty children, and three of his daughters became nuns. Edward the
Fourth made one of his daughters a nun. One of the children of Owen
Tudor and Katherine of Valois was placed in Westminster Abbey as an
infant, and there remained for life as a monk. Edward the First had
one daughter a nun. Thirteen daughters of nobles were in Ambresbury at
the same time. The fact that the Abbey was for gentlefolk is clearly
brought out by the list of names of the Westminster monks given in the
Podelicote case. This occurred in the year 1303. It was the robbery
of the royal Treasury or the Chapel of the Pyx at Westminster. Here
were kept many of the things required for the assay of new coins, and
at the time of the robbery the chapel contained an altogether unusual
amount of specie, about £100,000, equal to perhaps a million of money
in our time. The robber was Richard de Podelicote, who got into the
Abbey from the palace, which, as the king was away, was probably less
strictly guarded than usual. He climbed through one of the Chapter
House windows, and so into the Refectory. He carried away many of the
silver cups and managed to escape safely. However, he returned another
time and attacked the Treasury. For this he had to cut through solid
stone walls, and conceal his work; night after night he returned,
and in his confession he makes no mention of any confederates. His
perseverance was successful, and he took the money and all the gold and
silver things which could be conveniently melted down away with him,
but left behind the large jewels that he could not easily have got rid
of. However, the stuff was afterwards traced, not only to Podelicote
himself but to many others. Such is the story, and most amazing it
is. There is no doubt that the chief actors were hanged, though there
is no actual record of such a hanging. All the monks, forty of them,
were sent to the Tower, presumably for their carelessness in guarding
the Treasury. They were released after two years. In a letter from
the king we have a record of their names, and these names show almost
in all cases gentle birth. In effect, it wants no proof to understand
that the desirable endowments of a Religious House, whose Brethren were
like the Fellows of a College richly founded, would not be bestowed
upon the children of rustics and servants. Here and there, no doubt,
a rustic’s son might get advancement by the promise of exceptional
ability; but this was in the ranks of the secular clergy rather than
in the Religious Houses. The future monk was brought in, appointed
by interest, as to a very good thing, when a boy. It was extremely
difficult to procure such an appointment.
Founder’s kin, Benefactor’s kin sometimes helped; generally it was by
private interest that lads were admitted as novices. The monks were
not, as a rule, anxious to enlarge their numbers: rather to keep them
down, so that the revenues of the House should provide amply for all.
Sometimes admission was obtained by gifts or the conveyance of land.
I have said that during the Civil Wars the number of monks decreased
enormously; at Westminster it declined from eighty to thirty; at
Canterbury from a hundred and fifty to fifty-four; at Gloucester from
a hundred to thirty-six. This decrease was due, no doubt, partly to
the disastrous influence of the War on rents; partly to the demand
for fighting men; partly, I believe, to an increasing distaste for
the monastic life. The child fortunate enough to be appointed was
formerly presented in the Church as a novice; his parents first cut
off his curls, offering his long hair to the Abbey. They then placed
the chalice and the Host in his hand and led him to the priest at the
altar. Here they wrapped his hands in the pall of the altar, and heard
read a written engagement that they would not tempt the boy from the
House. After this the Abbot consecrated a hood for the boy and laid it
on him. He was then taken out, shaved after the fashion of the Order,
robed, and brought back, after which he was received with prayers.
It took long years to break in a novice, to teach him obedience, to
crush his will, to take the fighting spirit out of him, and the love
instinct out of him; in fact, if stories are true, the success of the
system was often incomplete in every point. The novice had to sit in
silence for hours, with down-cast eyes; he was never left alone to play
at freedom; he had to do everything in a manner prescribed by rule,
even the lifting of a cup at meals, even the carriage of the hands
when seated; things had to be said in a certain form; services were
frequent, and the singing of Psalms went on all day long and half the
night. The Church ceremonies were involved and elaborate. By the time
the novice was admitted he already knew every Function in the book, and
all the Psalms and Prayers by heart. By this time, also, the House was
all the world to him. What went on outside he knew not, the House was
everything—father, mother, brothers and kin; he had no ambition except
to rise to monastic honours. He had completed his education. If he
were a Benedictine, that education was liberal: he was taught grammar,
logic, Latin, philosophy, writing and illuminating, music, singing, and
the history of the Order. After his profession, the Benedictine theory
was that he continued his studies. If he did they were, in most of the
English Houses, sterile of results. At eighteen the novice made his
profession. There was then no retreat possible for him, he was a monk
for life. At first he was a Junior, and as such he read the Gospel and
the Epistle for the day; he carried a taper in processions; he read the
martyrology in the Chapter.
The services began at two in the morning with Matins; this finished,
the Choir went to bed; the rest sang Lauds for the dead; they went to
bed again and slept till daybreak or five, when they got up and had
Prime; at 9 A.M. there was Tierce; at 11 A.M. there was Sext; at 2 P.M.
there was Nones; at 6 P.M. there were Vespers. The monks went to bed
at eight, having given up eight hours at least out of the twenty-four
to services in the church. Eight hours were spent in sleep. One
hour was spent in the daily gathering in the Chapter House, leaving
seven for meals, exercise, recreation, and study. The rules were in
some cases relaxed for scholars, but, even making allowance for such
relaxation, it is clear that the monk, who was a student, was at a
great disadvantage compared with the student who lived outside.
The church was, of course, the most important part of the buildings
of a monastery. South of the nave was the cloister, with its four
walks, in which the monks spent their time when not in church; on
the east of the cloister was the Chapter House; on the south, the
Refectory; on the west, the Abbot’s House. Beyond the cloister were
the dormitories, the Scriptorium, the Misericordia, the Infirmary, the
Guest House. Beyond these were the Kitchen, Buttery, Pantry cellars,
Brewery, Bakehouse, Laundry, offices for making and mending, orchards,
gardens, vineyards, fishponds etc., and stables. An important House
had a great establishment to keep up. This was presided over in its
various departments by the Brethren themselves, whose offices will be
enumerated presently. This work occupied a good many of the Seniors. In
fact there were so many offices that it is difficult to discover how
they could find time for purposes of study. If they wanted to study,
or if they wanted to meditate, there was the cloister, but no other
place. Desks were set out there; but as the novices’ school was also
carried on there with, as sometimes happened, mechanical work by some
of the Brothers, it would seem impossible, according to modern ideas,
to carry on serious study amid such interruptions. It is a commonplace
to speak of the monotony of a Religious House. Considering that most of
the inmates knew no other kind of life, they hardly felt the monotony;
and, besides, we must remember that the House was filled with its own
ambitions, its envyings, its disappointments, which relieved it of
monotony. Who would not desire to be Abbot and to rank with an Earl?
The Abbot enjoyed that rank: when he rode abroad he was followed by a
retinue of a hundred persons; he could create knights; in some cases
he could coin money; he was guardian to many noble children who became
his pages; he administered a splendid estate. Or one might laudably
desire the office of Prior: he went first after the Abbot; he had his
own stall; he put on his hood before the others. Or there was the
sub-Prior: he sat among the monks and saw that every one behaved
properly; he also, at five o’clock in the evening, shut up the House.
Then there were administrative offices. These were the Altarer, the
Precentor, the Director of Ceremonies, the Kitchener, the Seneschal,
the Bursar, the Sacrist, the sub-Sacrist, the Almoner, and the Master
of the Novices. There were also the offices of less honour, but which
still conferred responsibility and even power; such as those of the
Infirmarer, Porter, Refectorer, Hospitaller, Chamberlain, Keeper of the
Granary, Master of the Common House, Orcharder, Operarius Registrar,
Auditor, Secretary, Butler, Keeper of Baskets, Keeper of the Larder,
apart from the mere service of the House, which required Baker, Brewer,
Carpenter, Carver, Sculptor, Bookbinder, Copyist, etc. As for the
morality of the monks, I am inclined to believe that the Religious
Houses maintained much more of their early piety than we have been
accustomed to believe. That they grew luxurious in their living, and in
some cases immoral in their lives, seems to have been due to the cause
assigned by Wyclyf and the Lollards—their great wealth. While they were
poor they lived simple lives; they practised the Rule; they worked at
copying Gospels and Mass Books; some of them kept Chronicles of their
own age—an invaluable service; they received the sick and the poor. In
the very worst times that the country ever experienced, the monasteries
stood up here and there over all the land to witness for justice, and
righteousness, and mercy. Bad as these times were, they would have been
far more ferocious and more cruel but for the existence and the example
of the monasteries.
At the same time, there were always scandals. Who could expect in a
monastery that all the younger monks should retain their purity? And
when there was nothing else to think about, who could expect men not
to think about their food? In the time of Henry the Second, Giraldus
Cambrensis relates that the monks of Canterbury had sixteen covers, or
more, with an abundance of wine, “particularly claret, mulberry wine,
mead, and other strong drinks.” And it is related by the same authority
that the monks of St. Swithin’s complained to Henry the Second that the
Bishop had reduced their dishes to ten. Upon which the King swore that
the Bishop should reduce the number to what suited himself, namely,
three. The monastic life expected of those who followed it, not a mere
obedience to the Rule, but a total absorption in the spirit of the
Rule, so that the Brethren should not look constantly for possible
relaxation and for indulgences, but should desire more and more all the
austerity possible under the Rule. And because there was everywhere
a falling-off from the austerity of the Rule, new branches were
continually founded, and new Orders continually sprang up, in order to
return to the ancient Rule with new austerities. When the Brethren fell
to relaxing any portion of the Rule, the downfall of the House began.
Then the spirit went out of the services, the meaning went out of the
offices, the sense went out of the Rules; the Brethren became either
like Rabelais, weary to death with the daily iteration of services, or
they became careless and sensual, evading and breaking vows as well as
the Rule; or they became dry sticklers for order and jealous for minor
customs, though the essentials had long been lost. This was already
the case in the fourteenth century. Decay was active in most of the
Monastic Houses; things were whispered; but still the bequests poured
in upon them from citizens rich and poor; people were loth to part
with the belief in the godly monks. And that there were still saintly
hearts in the cloister, still pious women in the nunnery, even in the
worst times of any, there can be no doubt. But, further, there can
be no doubt, also, that there was never any considerable or notable
body of scholars in the English Monasteries from the time of their
foundation to their Dissolution, and that no Monastic Rule ever devised
was calculated to create a love of learning or a school of students,
theologians, or philosophers.
The monasteries possessed a vast amount of property in lands and
houses. The lands were cultivated, and the houses held, in the usual
manner. I gather, from what is said on the subject, that monks made
good landlords, just, if exacting. In their schools they gave free
education, but not to all-comers. They also taught certain trades, but
not all; not those of a mere menial kind. Thus they taught carving,
painting, weaving, embroidery, damask work, enamelling, lapidary work,
music, and making musical instruments, illuminations, copying of
MSS., medicine, surgery, the making up of drugs and the composition
of cordials. Every Religious House had within itself a library, a
reading-room, a school, a burial-ground, a cloister, gardens, and
walks. Every novice brought some property. Everything, as I have said,
points to the fact that the mediæval monastery in England belonged to
the gentry and not to the lower class.
The monastic life in London was at its best in the twelfth century;
later on, besides the scandals, which perhaps were false or
exaggerated, we hear of relaxations, monks obtaining license for
residing outside the House, for “cutting chapel,” for indulgences in
wine and other things.
Let us turn to the Friars. There were five Orders of Friars in London:
the Franciscans, who came to London in 1224; the Dominicans, who
settled first in Oxford, 1221; the Austin Friars, whose London House
was founded in 1253; the Carmelites, or White Friars, in 1341; and
the Crutched or Crossed Friars in 1244. The most numerous and most
important of these, the most deeply loved and reverenced, were the
Franciscans, or Grey Friars.
The first appearance of the Franciscans in London was in the year 1224,
when a small company of them appeared and asked for a place wherein to
build themselves a humble lodging. They were granted a place in the
least desirable part of the City, close beside the Shambles, next to
“Stinking Lane.” Here they stayed. For many years after their arrival
they worked among the poorer classes of the people, silently and
without attracting much attention. Presently it began to be noised
abroad among the citizens that there was an extraordinary band of
Brethren who had no money and would take none; who had no food except
what was given to them; who went into the poorest and the worst
streets, who prayed with the dying murderer and comforted the dying
harlot, and attended the sick robber in a spirit of divine forgiveness
and love. Then the hearts of all went out towards the Franciscans.
Never was any Religious Order so reverenced, never were any religious
men so loved and worshipped by the good people of London. All the world
brought them gifts; they were ruined by the gifts; since they would not
receive estates, they must have gold and jewels; with the gold they
built a church, magnificent even in that age of magnificent churches;
since they must remain poor, they spent all their money on the church
and its decorations and furniture.
And then the inevitable decay set in; with so great a Church and so
noble a House the old begging for daily bread became a form; boxes
were put up in shops and houses, and the collectors came round at
regular intervals and cleared them; not a citizen of any substance but
left money in his will to the Franciscans; they received endowments
of chantries and obits; they took money for burying great persons
in the Church. The Friars grew careless and self-indulgent; the old
zeal for the poor died away; they were no more seen in the hovels of
the poorest. The Franciscan Rule, in fact, proved too severe to be
maintained in all its rigour. Yet the Dissolution of the Religious
Houses shows that in some particulars it was kept up. For instance, the
only property possessed by the Grey Friars when they left their House
was the rent of a few houses built within their precinct. They had no
estates. The great House, with its splendid church, was maintained by
the gifts of nobles and rich merchants; by the endowment, as mentioned
above, of chantries; and by the masses daily bought and said, or sung,
“for the intention” of the purchaser. It is the modern custom in some
Catholic countries to buy a mass before undertaking any enterprise;
even before beginning some necessary work, such as haymaking. This mass
is sung “for the intention” of the purchaser. There is, therefore,
reason to believe that the faithful purchased formerly, as they do
still, masses for “good luck.”
The rise, the extent, and the gradual decay in the respect held for
Friars is illustrated very remarkably by the _Calendar of Wills_. From
this valuable book, which may be accepted as a perfectly trustworthy
guide so far as it goes, I have extracted the following tables of
bequests to the five Orders of Friars. These bequests were sometimes
made collectively, so much each to all the Orders of Friars; sometimes
singly, so much to the Austin Friars, or the Preaching Friars. It will
be seen how the fashion of bequeathing money to the Friars grew and
increased and how it died away, as the popular respect for the Friars
decreased, and the new ideas spread.
Up to the year 1311 there are recorded in the _Calendar of Wills_ in
all five such bequests.
Between 1311 and 1324 there are three bequests
„ 1324 „ 1332 „ „ five “
„ 1332 „ 1339 „ „ eight “
„ 1339 „ 1355 „ „ fifty “
„ 1355 „ 1400 „ „ one hundred and thirty-five “
„ 1400 „ 1412 „ „ seventeen “
„ 1412 „ 1436 „ „ six “
„ 1436 „ 1530 „ „ fourteen “
As for special and separate bequests, the Grey Friars, formerly the
most popular of all, obtained only one bequest between 1396 and 1436;
after that, _none at all_. The Black Friars got no legacies at all from
1413 to 1503; in the latter year one fell to them. The White Friars got
none between 1395 and 1503, when they got one. The Austin Friars got
none after 1395; the Crutched Friars none from 1460 to 1518. That is to
say, in the bequests, few and small, given during this period to the
various Orders, they get their share, but there is no special gift made
to any.
While considering the subject of wills and bequests, I ran through
the volume edited by Dr. Furnivall called _The Fifty Earliest English
Wills_. These were from 1389 to 1439. A brief analysis shows that
in most cases bequests are made to the parish church, either to the
High Altar, or to the “Works,” either of vestments, or of money to
the priests and clerks, or of money for masses, a rental of masses
or “the year’s mind” for twenty, seven, or five years. In seventeen
cases, or perhaps more, provision is made for the poor; in three cases
for prisons and prisoners; in three cases for nuns; in one case for
an “ankeress”; in one for mending the ways; in one for repairing a
bridge; and in nine cases for friars, either the recognised Orders, all
together, or one or other of them. But four of these cases belong to
the country; there are, therefore, only five belonging to London. The
period covers that when Lollardy was at its highest, and this result
confirms the conclusion arrived at by an analysis of the _Calendar of
Wills_; that, namely, as to the decay of respect for the Religious.
Then there are those wills published by the Camden Society (_Wills from
Doctors’ Commons_) which belong to the time before the Reformation,
viz. those of Cicely, Duchess of York, 1495; Dame Maude Parr, 1529;
Archbishop Warham, and Charles Brandon.
The Duchess of York leaves bequests to certain colleges named, to the
House of Sion, of which her daughter was prioress, and to certain
parishes, but nothing to the Friars.
Dame Maude Parr gives forty shillings each to the four Orders of Friars
in London, and twenty shillings each to the Friars of Northampton.
Archbishop Warham gives nothing to the Friars.
[Illustration: THE LOLLARD’S TOWER, LAMBETH PALACE
Engraved by J. Greig, from a drawing by J. Whichelo.]
Again, of bequests to the various Orders, between 1356 and 1412, there
are 110, between 1412 and 1544 there are only 7. The contemplation
of these figures, the amazing falling-off of such bequests in the
beginning of the fifteenth century, when Lollardy was rife, the failure
of the Friars to recover their old position of reverence, goes far
to show why in London the suppression of the Religious Houses was
effected with so little opposition. The people had ceased to believe in
the holiness of the Friars; as for that of the monks, it was perhaps
different, as we shall see in another place.
Since we have spoken of the decay of belief in the Friars, let us also
speak of the respect actually paid to them when their popularity was at
its height.
Shortly after the Black Death, a letter was sent by the Mayor and
Aldermen to the Pope, asking that a certain John de Werthyn, a
Dominican Friar, might be appointed Penitentiarius to the City. The
office itself was important. In Confession there were continually
occurring certain cases not provided for in the instructions of the
ordinary priest. In such a case the priest could only grant conditional
absolution. He referred it to his Bishop, who either decided it
himself, or, if it was one of an unusual and difficult kind, passed
it on to the Penitentiarius. If he, too, found the case too grave for
his decision, he referred it to the College or Court of Penitentiaries
at Rome, on whose official report the Pope generally acted. The Mayor
and Aldermen, after a preamble to the effect that their City had been
of late grievously afflicted by a dreadful mortality, so that the
merchants were not able to wait in person upon his Holiness, proceeded
to petition the Pope that he would “grant unto the venerable and
religious man, Brother John de Werthyn, his chaplain, a man of honour,
of approved life and manners, and also of learning, sprung from the
high blood of the realm, who alone of all others strengthens us with
the word of Christ, that he and he only, within the City may be able to
absolve the people being penitent.” They go on to ask that the office,
at his death, may be continued in the Order of the Dominican Friars.
The satires against the Religious Orders began within the very century
of their foundation in England. One, for example, given in Thomas
Wright’s _Political Poems_, belongs to the reign of Edward the First.
It is the poem called “The Order of Fair Ease.” The Order of Fair
Ease takes a point from every Order, of course it takes the weak
point in every case. To begin with, the Order is entirely confined
to gentlefolk—one wonders whether Rabelais had read this satire, and
whether any part of it suggested the Abbey of Thelema.
“Quar en l’Ordre est meint prodhoume,
E meinte bele e bone dame.
En cel ordre sunt sanz blame,
Esquiers, vadletz, e serjauntz;
Mès à ribaldz e à pesauntz
Est l’ordre del tot defendu
Qe jà nul ne soit rescu.”
As at the Abbey of Sempringham, the Order is to receive both men and
women; but whereas at Sempringham there are walls and ditches to
separate the Brethren from the Sisters, in this Order there is to be
no wall or ditch or anything to separate them. Three times a day, at
least, they are to eat, and if they do it in company the Order will be
none the worse.
From Beverley they are to take the custom of eating and drinking well
at dinner, at supper, and at collation; and after collation every one
is to have a piece of candle as long as from the elbow to the finger
ends; and to go on drinking so long as the candle lasts.
From the Hospitallers they will take their long and sweeping robes.
From the Canons they will take the custom of eating meat three times a
week, and if on Fast Days they find themselves without fish, then they
are to eat whatever is in the larder.
From the Black Monks (the Benedictines) they are to borrow the habit of
getting drunk every day.
[Illustration: KNIGHTS OF THE HOLY GHOST EMBARKING FOR THE CRUSADES
After a miniature from the “Statutes of the Order of the Holy Ghost”
at Naples. MS. of the fourteenth century in the Louvre. From Lacroix’
_Military and Religious Life in the Middle Ages_.]
From the Secular Canons, who willingly serve the ladies, the new Order
is to take that point and to be constant companions of the Sisters,
both before and after matins, so that the Order may not on that account
fall into discredit.
In the Order of Silence, each brother shuts himself up in his cell; the
new Order shall have the same rule, provided that a sister be locked up
with a brother.
In the Friars Minor the Brethren are ordered to take whatever
hospitality is offered them; but they take care never to rest at the
house of a poor man, so in the new Order the Brethren will on no
account take up their quarters unless where the owner is a rich man.
As for the Black Friars—the Preaching Order,—they may wear sandals if
they please and ride if they please. The new Order will always wear
sandals and will always ride.
“Atant fine nostre Ordre,
Q’à touz bonz ordres se acorde,
Et c’est l’Ordre del Bel-Eyse,
Qe à pluzours tro bien pleyse!”
To this we may add Chaucer’s description of a Friar. Now Chaucer
was of London town. This Friar was “a wanton and a merry”; he was a
“limitour,” that is to say, he had his “beat” in which he exercised
his craft. “He had made full many a marriage of young women at his own
cost”—that is, whom he had first seduced. He was greatly respected
as a Father confessor, on account of the easy terms on which he gave
absolution, so long as the services gave to the Order:
“For many a man so hard is of his herte,
He may not wepe al thogh him sore smerte.
Therefore instide of weping and preyeres,
Men moot yeve silver to the povre freres.”
He carried knives and pins in his tippet, because the Friars had now
become pedlars and carried knives, pins, purses, girdles, silk, etc.,
to sell in the country places. He knew all the taverns and every
hostler and barmaid (tapster); he was the best beggar ever known; he
could sing and play right well:
“And in his harping whan that he had songe
His eyen twinkled in his heed aright,
As doon the sterres in the frosty night.”
Chaucer’s company contained other functionaries, but for our purpose
this is enough.
We need not suppose that the widespread hatred of friars indicated
any disbelief in their doctrines. That would come later, but as yet
there seemed no desire for change in doctrine. The people made songs,
and told stories, about the luxury, the greed, the concupiscence,
the license of the friars, but the convents remained, and the people
continued to cling to the supposed sanctity of the place. A man who one
day cursed the whole crew of monks, friars, and pardoners, the next day
begged for a letter of fraternity, by which he might participate in the
spiritual advantages of Carmelite or Augustine; he arranged for burial
in the Convent Church; he would be buried in a friar’s robe; he would
found a chantry, a trental, an obit, an anniversary.
It is difficult to understand the roving life of the friar. One
supposes that he was always attached to his Friary. Had he a license
to roam and beg? Was he a limitour, _i.e._ a friar licensed to hear
confessions and grant absolution over a certain district? Was he a
wandering preacher? Were the “simple priests” sent out by Wyclyf
mendicant friars? Did the wandering preachers, whether sent by Wyclyf
or not, all preach the same vague socialism? Some of these questions
may be answered with some degree of certainty. The Friars of the street
and road were nearly all sprung from the lower classes; even the
villeins sent their sons to become Friars and Priests. A very little
consideration of the vast army required for Ecclesiastical purposes,
poorly paid, with slender learning, with no prospects of promotion,
will show that the scholars of both Universities must have amounted
to an immense number, consisting chiefly of poor scholars, with a
license to beg. The Commons, in the reign of Richard the Second,
complained of the way in which the sons of villeins thus bettered their
condition by “advancement par clergie.” The clerks who issued from the
universities obtained episcopal orders, and in some cases took upon
them the vows and robes of the Mendicants. They then began to wander
about the country, preaching and teaching, living on charity, received
into certain houses; and so continued for the rest of their lives. For
the most part, they were careful not to ask for a license from their
Bishop; they had no papers; they were not attached to any House; they
roamed about from village to village, from town to town; in London
they preached in the streets, in the markets, at street corners; they
preached not only concerning things religious, but concerning things
social; and belonging themselves to the people, knew what the people
wanted, and preached accordingly.
One of them, John Ball, whose preaching has been thought worthy of the
historian, probably because he was considered to be so mischievous a
person, taught a kind of rough socialism. “At the beginning we were
all created equal: it is the tyranny of perverse men which has caused
slavery to arise in spite of God’s Law: if God had willed that there
should be slaves, He would have said at the beginning of the world who
should be slave and who should be lord.” A poor argument, because,
notoriously, we are not created equal, but unequal in every respect.
Also, there is nothing to show that the Creator did not say at the
beginning who should be slave and who should be lord. Froissart also
speaks of John Ball:—
“This preest vsed often tymes on the sondayes after masse whanne the
people were goynge out of the mynster, to go into the cloyster and
preche, and made the people to assemble about hym, and wolde say
thus: A ye good people, the maters gothnot well to passe in Englande,
nor shall not do tylle euery thyng be common, and that there be no
villayns not gentylmen.... What haue we deserued or why shulde we be
kept thus in seruage? we be all come from one father and one mother,
Adam and Eve: wherby can they say or shewe that they be gretter lordes
than we be, sauynge by that they cause vs to wyn and labour, for that
they dispende ... they dwell in fayre houses, and we haue the payne
and trauele, rayne and wynde in the feldes: and by that that cometh
of our labours they kepe and mayteyne their estates.... Lette vs go
to the kyng, he is yonge, and shewe hym what seruage we be in....
Thus Johan (Ball) sayd on sondayes whan the people issued out of the
churches with another in the feldes and in the wayes as they want
togyder, affermyng howe Johan Ball sayd trouthe.”
That many of the friars held and preached similar doctrines is proved
by the story of Jack Straw, who would have kept no other ecclesiastics
upon earth except the Mendicants. Their popularity, of course, was
advanced and preserved by the social doctrines they preached. But in
London they seem to have lost their popularity very early. In the reign
of Edward the Second the Preaching Friars had to fly before the rage
of the people, “on account of their proud behaviour. And Richard the
Second, in 1385, issued a proclamation against certain persons who,
instigated by the Evil Spirit, “do openly and secretly stir up our
people to destroy the houses of the said friars, tearing their habits
from them, striking them, and ill-treating them against our peace.”
The greatest enemies of the mendicant were the parish priest and the
monk. The former found himself abandoned; no one confessed to him; no
one listened to him. They were all running after the mendicant friar,
who spoke to them in their own patois, was one of themselves, who knew
their ways and their wants, and confessed them easily. And Jack Straw’s
rebellion showed what had been the teaching of these wanderers. Since
there were so many of them that alms were not always to be obtained,
some, as we have seen, became pedlars:—
“They wandren here and there,
And dele with divers marcerye,
Right as thai pedlers were,
That dele with purses, pinnes and knyves,
With gyrdles, gloves, for wenches and wyves.”
Walsingham, a monk of St. Alban’s, says of them, “The friars, unmindful
of their profession, have even forgotten to what end their Orders were
instituted; for the holy men their law-givers desired them to be poor
and free of all kinds of temporal possessions, that they should not
have anything which they might fear to lose on account of saying the
truth. But now they are envious of possessions, approve the crimes of
the great, induce the commonalty into error, and praise the sins of
both: and with the intent of acquiring possessions ... call good evil
and evil good.”
And a popular song of the fourteenth century says of them:—
“Full wisely can they preach and say;
But as thei preche no thing do thei,
I was a frere ful many a day,
Therefore the sothe I wate.
But when I saw that thair lyvyng
Accordyd not to thair preching,
Of I cast my frer clothing,
And nyghtly went my gate.
Other leve ne took I none
Fro ham where I went.
But took ham to the devil ye none
The prior and the convent.”
[Illustration: A PRIEST CALLED JOHN BALL STIRS UP GREAT COMMOTION IN
ENGLAND
From Froissart’s _Chronicles_.]
And see _Political Songs_, Edw. III.—Rich. III. vol. ii. p. 17, edited
by Thomas Wright:—
“But the felliest folke
that ever Antichrist found,
been last brought into the church,
and in a woonder wise;
for they been of diverse sects of Antichrist,
sown of diverse countries and kindreds.
And all men knowne well that
they bee not obedient to bishops,
ne leege men to kings;
neither they tillen ne sowen,
weeden ne reapen,
wood, corn, ne grasse,
neither nothing that man should helpe,
but onely themselves,
their lives to susteine,
And these men have all manner power
of God, as they seyn,
in heaven and in yearth,
to sell heaven and hell
to whom that them liketh;
and these wretches weet never
where to been themselves.
And therefore, freer, if thine order and rules
been grounded on Goddis law,
tell thou mee, Jacke Upland,
that I aske of thee,
and if thou be or thinkest to be on Christes side,
keepe thy paciens.”
And these are the questions asked of the Friar:—
How many Orders are there?
Which is the most perfect Order?
Is there any Order more perfect than that of Christ?
Since there is but one religion, how is a man an apostate who
leaves his Order?
Does the habit mean religion?
Why do you stick out for your colours?
Why do you eat flesh in one house and not in another?
Why are you silent in one house and not in another?
Why at initiation and profession do you pretend to be dead?
Why do you build such splendid houses?
Why are you not made Bishops?
Can your prayers make any man better than his own prayers can do?
Why do you preach that a man buried in your habit shall never
go to hell?
Why do you steal children for your sect?
Why do you hear confessions of rich men?
Why do you hate the preaching of the gospel?
When you take a penny for a mass, what is it you sell? God’s body?
Prayer? or your trouble?
Since God knows everything, why write name of donor on your tablets?
Why beg for yourself instead of poor men?
Why do you not keep the Rule of St. Francis?
In the restoration of the City life of the fourteenth century, remember
that in every street we find the mendicant friar; at dinner-time he
walks into any house he chooses: “Peace be unto this house,” he says,
after which, by the Franciscan rule, it is lawful for him to eat of
all meats that are set before him; at the corner of the street there
is a wandering preacher denouncing the luxury and sloth of the rich;
his audience is composed of craftsmen in leather jerkins listening
with eager ears and intelligent faces. He is fat and well nourished;
he has a full, rich voice and a certain rude oratory that lays hold
of the people and constrains them to listen. There passes along the
street, in a ragged gown, a lean and hungry chantry priest; he looks
at the crowd round the preacher; he hears him talk the rough, strong
East Saxon dialect which has always been the language of the London
craftsman. He sighs, it is his own native patois, but he cannot talk
as this man talks; he is a poor scholar, once a licensed beggar, and
now a ragged, half-starved priest, having nothing but his little
chantry endowment. Yet, being a scholar, he could prove that this man
is all wrong. So he sighs and passes on his way. There comes next a
Pardoner with his box hung round his neck; that precious box in which
he has a finger-nail of St. Luke, the feather with which St. Matthew’s
Gospel was written, a piece of a stone thrown at St. Stephen, the last
footstep of the Prophet Elijah embedded in the rock, a piece of St.
Peter’s fishing-net—you can see for yourself that it is a fishing-net,
and other very precious relics. The box also contains pardons and
indulgences which this good man sells to the faithful. At sight of the
preacher, however, the Pardoner says nothing. In vain would he open his
box of relics and offer his parchment indulgences in the presence of
this preacher and his listeners. Lollards all! Lollards all!
There rides along the narrow street a monk with hawk on fist bravely
dressed. Behind him walk his men leading the dogs. They are going
to cross London Bridge and gain the wild heath country lying beyond
the Southwark and Lambeth marshes. He regards preacher and crowd
alike with scorn ineffable. It is the hour of Angelus—and from every
parish church, from every monastery church, from every Chapel, from
every College, and from the Cathedral, the bells call the world to
silent prayer. For a few moments all are hushed; the roar of London
is stilled; it was not the roar of wheels so much as the sound of ten
thousand hammers. The preacher is silent for a moment; his audience
take off their caps; the monk who goes hawking crosses himself; the
Pardoner stands bare-headed: it is but a moment, then the noise begins
again.
The support of the church by the taxes or offerings of the parishioners
is a singular story of conservatism and of gradual development. It
was customary for the congregation on Sundays and Apostles’ days to
make offerings or oblations at the celebration of the mass. This usage
became regulated not by law but by custom, more binding than law, into
a payment of one halfpenny by every citizen who paid a rent of 20s.,
and one farthing by every citizen who paid a rent of 10s. The number of
days so observed amounted to 60, so that in the former case the citizen
paid 2s. 6d. a year, and in the latter case 1s. 3d. a year. Observe
that this custom amounted to an eighth part of the rent; applied to
modern custom, for an office in the City rented at £100 a year, the
citizen would now have to pay £12:10s.
Bishop Roger Le Noir converted this custom into law in 1228. In 1389
Archbishop Arundel interfered and increased the number of Apostles’
days to be so observed by 22 more, making the 2s. 6d. into 3s. 9d. An
appeal to the Pope was answered by his support of the Archbishop; but
the citizens continued to grumble. In 1535, probably with the desire
of making the Londoners pleased with his ecclesiastical changes, Henry
reduced the 3s. 5d. to 2s. 9d. And so the tax remained, until the Fire
of 1666 necessitated a revision of the law.
CHAPTER II
CHURCH FURNITURE
The furniture of a London church was elaborate to a degree which
astonishes those accustomed to a simple Anglican ritual. It would also,
I believe, astonish the modern Catholic priest when he thinks of his
own village church. The Book of the _Visitation of Churches belonging
to St. Paul’s Cathedral in 1297 and in 1458_ (Camden Society, edited
by W. Sparrow Simpson, D.D.) enables us to understand the extent and
the wealth of these churches. The font, of which many specimens still
remain, was generally of stone, but sometimes of marble, and sometimes
of wood. It was kept locked lest the consecrated water should be used
for superstitious purposes. The water was changed every week. The altar
was sometimes of stone; when it was of wood a superaltar of marble or
stone or jasper, with feet of silver, was placed upon it. An altar
frontal was generally found, sometimes of carved wood, sometimes of
embroidered work. On the altar were two chalices, one of silver or
silver-gilt, and one of tin; there was a small cross, called _crux
parva_, to distinguish it from the rood; there were _phialæ_ and a
_ferrum_ or stamp for stamping the altar bread with the letters XPC,
IHC, DS. There was a _pix_ or tabernacle for the reservation of the
Eucharist. This was sometimes a very beautiful casket of glass, ivory,
copper, silver, or enamel, hanging over the altar with canopies.
There was the _crismatorium_, with its oil for the sick; there were
the carpets before the altar; the curtains and the veils. There were
various kinds of candlesticks and candelabra of copper, brass, pewter,
or even of wood. The expenses of the lights were defrayed by a kind
of rate. A tenant who had a cow paid 12d. a year, one who had an ewe
paid 2d., one who had a wether 1d., and the possessor of a sow 2d. Of
bells there were those hanging in the tower, and the small hand-bells
rung at funerals and at masses. There was a processional cross; there
were banners; the lectern had its hangings; there were chests for the
reception of the robes and relics; there were seats for the clergy, but
none for the people, who either stood or knelt on their own cushions.
The _pax_ or _osculatorium_ was a tablet of wood, or other material,
which was kissed by the celebrant. At only two of the churches in
the Visitation were there any organs. Then there were the robes and
veils; the dalmatic, the chasuble, the choir cope, the surplice,
the canopy held over the newly-married pair, the Lenten veil which
covered everything during Lent, etc. Then came the books—the _Legenda_,
_Antiphonare_, _Gradale_, _Psalterium_, _Troparium_, _Ordinale_,
_Missale_, _Manuale_, _Epistolarium_, _Processionale_. Many of these
books were kept in duplicate: we can very well understand how the books
would be constantly wearing out by daily use. To replace them in a
poor parish was a work of great expense and trouble. Yet these things
were considered necessaries in every church, however humble. What was
to be expected of the great churches endowed and furnished by princes,
nobles, and rich merchants?
[Illustration: EMBROIDERY OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY, SUPPOSED TO BE
PART OF A FRONTAL OR ANTEPENDIUM
Engraved from the original.]
The following is a list of the treasures belonging to the Church of St.
Laurence Jewry:—
“Five great bells and two small bells.
One auter cloth with a nether part and a border of whit damaske
imbrodered upon the same flowers and imags.
One payer of certens of whit sarcenet with frenges.
One awter cloth with a nether part and a border of cloth of golde.
One payer of certens of sylke stayned.
One auter cloth with a nether part and a border of red velvet with
koges and one payer of sylk certyns stayned.
One nether part of an awter cloth and a border of satten with flowers
wrought upon the same and one payer certyns of sarcenet.
[Illustration: ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY PREACHING ON BEHALF OF HENRY,
DUKE OF LANCASTER
Harl. MS. 1319, page 12.]
One awter cloth with a nether part and a border of damaske and one
payer of certyns of sylk.
One cope of cloth of gold the grownde beeinge red.
One cope of cloth of gold the grownde beeinge blew.
One cope with a vestment of whit damaske wroght upon red flowers of
golde and fflanmells pertayninge to the same.
One cope with a vestment of koges and fflamels to the same.
One cope of red velvet imbrodered with buds and cards of golde.
One cope of blew velvet imbrodered with golde and images and also
One vestment of red velvet with fflowers of golde.
One vestment of dornyx bodkyn.
One awter cloth of red velvet with fflowers of golde and y borders
pertayninge to the same.
One awter cloth with a nether part of blewe sarcenet imbrodered with
garters and iiij certins of sarcenet.
xvij awter clothes of linen cloth ix borders and xx certyns all
stayned.
ij awter clothes of lynne stayed with half-pencers.
ij borders of stayed cloth.
j awter cloth of ginger collered velvet with a border to the same.
j clothe of blewe velvet that went abowt the sepulchre.
viij lynnen clothes used in the tyme of Lent and vj certins of lynen
clothe pertayninge to the same.
ij copes of grene silk demyn and j cope of red velvet imbrodered with
gold and images.
iij borders and a font clothe all stayned.
iij certyns of blew and yellow buckram.
iiij certyns of sarcenett red and greene.
iiij certyns of saye yellow and red.
iiij certyns of red say and ij vayle clothes.
j curten of blak sarcenett with silk frenges.
xli gaulbez and xxx hed cloths all lynen cloths.
j corporas case of cloth of golde.
vj corporas cases of dyvers sorts and v corporas cloths.
A box of coper otherwise called the pix-box with a cower of sarcenett.
ij pewter dyshes.
j gilt cup with a patten all gilt.
i chalis all gilt without a patten.
ij chalices parcell gilt with ij patens.
iiij crosse staves ij of wode and ij of coper.
j clothe of hear (_i.e._ hair) to laye upon an auter.
xvij cosshens of sylke.
ix candlesticks of latten smale and great.
ij sencers of latten.
iiij stoks of latten for water.
j greate deske of latten.
iiij rods of irone and a fier sholven (_sic_, _i.e._ shovell).
Certayne olde leade iiij paxes.
xx dieper towells and xv dieper auter clothes.
x playn awter clothes.
xi players cotts of lynnen cloth stayned.
ij bere clothes to cast upon a coffyn the j bodkyn sylke and the other
of lynen cloth stayned.
xvij banners and strements of silke stayned.
viij banners of cloth stayned.
viij banner staves.
j Bible.
ij payer of organs.”
Among the minor offices of the Church, that of the blessing of the
widow may be mentioned. The _Benedictio Viduæ_ accompanied the vow of
future chastity.
Between the Gospel and the Epistle the widow knelt before the
Bishop sitting on a fald stool. He asked her in the presence of the
congregation if she were willing to become the spouse of Christ and to
give up the lusts of the flesh. She then read, or caused to be read,
the following profession:—“I, A. B., avow to God perpetual chastity
of my body from henceforward, and in the presence of the Honourable
Father in God, My Lord by the Grace of God, Bishop of C., I promise
steadfastly to live in the Church a widow. Then the Bishop blessed the
ring, sprinkled it with holy water, and put it on the widow’s finger as
a sign of her marriage with Christ, saying:—
“Accipe, Famula Christi, annulum Fidei signum, connubii indicium,
quem devota deferas, casta custodias, quo ad amplexus divini sporsi
coronanda perficias. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Oremus.”
He then said certain prayers, and the ceremony was completed. Of
this ceremony Furnivall quotes a remarkable instance. In the year
1231 Eleanor, sister of Henry the Third (and widow of William, Earl
of Pembroke, who died 15th April 1231), took the vow before Edmund,
Archbishop of Canterbury, and Richard, Bishop of Chichester. Seven
years later, however, she married Simon de Montfort. The Archbishop
protested, and a dispensation was obtained from the Pope.
In 1351 Philippa, widow of Guy, son of Thomas, Earl of Warwick, took
the vow in these words:—
“En le nom de le Seint Trinitie, Piere, Fils et Seint Esprit jeo
Philippa que fu la feme Sire Guy de Warwyst face puriment et des queor
et voluntie entierement, avow a Dieu et Seint Eglise, et a la benure
Virgin Marie et a tout le bel compaigne delestine et a vous reverent
Piere en Dieu Sir Reynaud per le Grace de Dieu Evesque de Wircester que
jeo ameneray ma vie en chastitee defoie en avant, et chaste ferra de
mon corps a tout temps de ma vie.”
CHAPTER III
THE CALENDAR OF THE YEAR
The influence of the Church on the daily life of London may be
illustrated by a brief Calendar of the Ecclesiastical Year and of the
observances of the people. It is needless to remind ourselves that
these observances included an immense collection of old traditions,
ancient pagan customs, and superstitions grafted on the association of
these days with Church history and doctrine. (See Appendix VI.) The
year began with the holy season of Advent, when the Wednesdays and
Fridays were days of that complete Fasting which allowed of one meal
only in the day, and that without meat. On Christmas Eve, and also
on St. Agnes’ Eve, girls practised certain divinations to see what
husbands they would get. Thus, they wrote the names of men on onions
and laid them by the fire: the part to sprout or burst was that which
contained the name of the coming lover; and since it was important to
know what kind of husband he would be, the maiden went to the woodstack
and pulled out a stick: if it were a straight and even stick, with
no knots, he would be a kind and gentle husband; if it were crooked
or knotty, resignation must be cultivated. At Christmas there were
mummings and feasts and merrymakings; the rooms were decked with holly
and all kinds of green branches; there were pageants, masques, and
moralities. In the church was acted the Nativity, with the angels and
the shepherds and the Child in the cradle; in some places children
danced before the altar. On the day of St. Stephen horses were made
to gallop about, and were bled to keep them well throughout the year.
On the day of St. John the people bought of the priests manchets made
with hallowed wine as a preventive against storms. At Childermasse—28th
December,—Innocents’ Day, they whipped the children so that they might
remember the slaughter of the Innocents. Then came the New Year:—
“Then giftes the husband gives his wife and father eke the child
And master on his men bestows the like with favor milde:
And good beginning of the year they wish and wish again,
According to the ancient guise of heathen people vaine:
Then eight days no man doth require his dettes of any man
Their tables do they furnish out with all the meat they can.”
The month of January was a time of great revelry, simply because the
short day brought work to a close between four and five, and left a
long evening.
“In January men do play
In cards and dice their time away;
Now men and maids do merry make
At stoolball and at barley break.”
On Twelfth Day they chose a king by lottery of the Cake: the king
was lifted up on the hands of the others while he traced the sign of
the Cross upon every rafter in the roof. This blessed sign kept off
Devils. Another singular custom on this day was that the master of the
house at eventide set down a loaf of bread on the hearth, and strewed
frankincense on a pan of coals. He then, followed by the whole of his
household, inhaled the fumes. This was to keep them all during the year
to come from toothache, earache, or any malady of the eyes and nose.
When all had thus fortified themselves, they took up the loaf and the
pan of coals and bore them round the house. In so simple a way were
they enabled to insure themselves against want of food and the power
of witches. On Candlemas Day, 2nd February, every one offered a taper.
These tapers were sovereign for keeping off ghosts, lightning, storm,
and tempest. On the day of St. Blasius, they procured, at great cost,
water made holy by being passed through one of the Saint’s bones.
Barrels of this water were sold. Valentine’s Day they observed with
zeal; says John Lydgate:—
“Seynte Valentyn, of custom yeere by yeere
Men have an usance in this regioun,
To loke and serche Cupid’s Kalendere,
And chose theyr choyse by grete affectioun:
Such as ben prike with Cupid’s nocioun,
Takyng theyr choyse as theyre sort doth falle:
But I love oone which excellith alle.”
Shrove Tuesday brought a very madness of revelry: the people dressed
up like wild beasts and ran about the streets; they danced; they made
shows; they feasted and drank. The street processions did not end with
Shrove Tuesday, they were carried over to Ash Wednesday, when every one
paraded the streets carrying a herring on a pole and singing doggerel.
And the approach of spring was celebrated by the following rough sport,
evidently an ancient custom:—
“In some place all the youthful flocke with minstrels doe repaire,
And out of every house they pluck the girles and maidens faire;
And them to plough they straitway put, with whip one doth them hit:
Another holds the plough in hand: the Minstrel here doth sit
Amid the same and drunken songs with gaping mouth he sings
Whom foloweth one that sows out sande, or ashes fondly flings.
When thus they through the streets have plaied, the man that
gardeth all
Doth drive both plough and maidens through some pond or river small:
And dabbled all with dirt, and wringing wet as they may bee
To supper calls and after that to dancing lustilee.”
Then fell upon the City a time of great sadness. In the churches the
images were covered up with painted cloths, on which was declared, one
knows not how, the “Wrath and furie great of God”; the butchers’ stalls
were closed; the shambles were innocent of blood; the cooks’ shops
furnished nothing but fish; and devout people, and men and women of
religion, took but one meal in the day. On Palm Sunday there was the
Procession of the Entry into Jerusalem; after the Procession and Mass
the boys led the Ass about the parish begging for money and eggs.
For three days before Easter in this City of multitudinous bells—bells
of monasteries, bells of colleges, bells of hospitals, bells of
churches—there was a stillness profound. No bells were rung at all.
The sexton climbed the tower or the steeple and called to mass with a
wooden clapper. The boys ran about the streets with wooden clappers
calling the people to church. It is even said that during the solemn
darkness of the Tenebrose, the ’prentices carried on a free fight. And
during this week the curious custom was observed of bringing into every
great man’s house a twisted tree. At Easter Eve all fires were put out
and renewed from flint and steel. The water for baptism was hallowed
with a procession of crosses, tapers, and banners. It was lucky to
carry some banner. On Easter Day the Resurrection was represented in
many churches. On this day, also, people ate radishes to keep off
agues. On one of the three days before the Ascension the parish bounds
were beaten by the parish beadles and a pack of boys. On Ascension
Day it was the custom to eat birds, for their upward flight was held
to be a symbol of the Ascension. At church the image of our Lord was
literally pulled up to the roof with ropes, while an image of Satan was
thrown down and broken to pieces.
On Whit Sunday white pigeons and doves were set free in the church. On
Corpus Christi Day, the Host was carried about in a procession followed
by representations of the Saints.
“Fayre Ursley with her maidens all, doth passe amid the wayes:
And valiant George with speare that killed the dreadful dragon here:
The Devil’s house is drawn about where in there doth appere
A wondrous sorte of damned sprites, with foule and fearful looke:
Great Christopher doth wade and pass with Christ around the brooke:
Sebastian full of feathered shafts the dint of dart doth feel:
Then walketh Kathren with hir sworde in hande and cruel wheele:
The Challis and the Singing Cake with Barbara is led,
And sundrie other Pageants playde in worship of their bred.
Saint John before the Bred doth go, and poynting towards him,
Doth show the same to be the Lambe that takes away our sinne:
On whom two cladde in Angels’ shape to sundrie flowers fling
A number great of salving belles with pleasant sound doe ring.”
On the Feast of John the Baptist bonfires were lighted and the young
people danced in the street, a survival of the midsummer rejoicings.
Every house on this evening was decorated with leaves and branches,
green birch, fennel, white lilies, St. John’s wort and garlands,
with variegated lamps, which were hung up everywhere. There were
miracle plays enacted in the summer on carts and wheeled machines. At
Martinmas, 11th November, the beginning of winter, roast goose was
eaten, and boys went about singing:
“It is the Day of Martilmass
Cuppes of ale should freely passe:
What though winter has begun
To push down the shining sun?
To our fire we can betake,
And sit beside the crackling brake,
Never heeding winter’s face
On the day of Martilmass.”
The religious functions of the Lord Mayor and Corporation were many,
and were considered inseparable from the office. I have elsewhere
called attention to the point that it is futile to ask whether any
mediæval Foundation, Corporation, or Institution was religious in
character, because at that time nothing could be considered which was
not based upon, or supported by, religion.
The following are some of the religious duties imposed upon the
Mayor. On the morrow of SS. Simon and Jude the Mayor, newly elected,
took the oaths at the Exchequer in the morning. He then dined, and
after dinner he proceeded to the Church of St. Thomas of Acon, where
prayers were said. Thence he went in procession to St. Paul’s, where,
kneeling in the nave, he prayed for the soul of Bishop William, who
saved the liberties of the City at the Norman Conquest. After this he
went out into the churchyard, where he prayed for the souls of the
Martyr’s parents buried there. This done, he returned to the Church
of St. Thomas of Acon, where he and the Aldermen made an offering.
This conclusion of the afternoon’s ceremonies was conducted, if it was
already dark, by torchlight.
On the Day of All Saints the Mayor with his household, the Aldermen
with their households, and the substantial citizens, all marched
together to St. Paul’s and heard vespers.
On Christmas Day they again went to St. Paul’s to hear vespers and
compline, the Mayor sitting on the right hand of the Dean.
On Whit Monday the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs met in the Church of
St. Peter, Cornhill: they were met by the clergy of the City churches,
and, a procession being formed in which the clergy led the way, they
walked through Chepe to St. Paul’s. Entering by the north side they
were met by the officials of the Cathedral, and escorted through the
transepts to the south side, where they went out, and walking through
“the Close of Watling Street,” _i.e._ the south part of St. Paul’s
Precinct, they entered at the great door of the west. In the nave they
heard the hymn, “Veni Creator,” while a winged angel in white robes
censed the people from the roof. This done, the Mayor advanced to
the Altar and laid his offering upon it. It will be observed that he
represented the City, and prayed for the guidance of the Holy Spirit
not for himself but for the whole City.
On Whit Tuesday the same ceremony was observed. But the procession was
formed at the Church of St. Michael le Querne, outside the Precinct
of Paul’s, and was joined by the common folk of Middlesex. The same
ceremony was performed in the Cathedral. On Whit Wednesday the same
ceremony was performed for the third time, but with the common folk of
Essex. The Mayor on these two days represented, therefore, the people
of two counties.
[Illustration: QUEEN MARGARET, WIFE OF HENRY VI., AT PRAYERS
From Wadmore’s _Some Account of the Worshipful Company of Skinners_.]
There were many other occasions in the year when the Mayor went in
state to certain City churches.
On occasions of rejoicings there were also special visits. Thus, on the
news of the birth of Edward the Third the Mayor and Aldermen repaired
immediately to the Cathedral, where the Bishop sang mass, and after
mass, to the sound of trumpets, the Mayor and Aldermen “led the Carol”
(“menerent la Karole”). A few days after a great pageant was celebrated
in the City.
Mention is made above of one or two charms against certain diseases.
It must not be forgotten that for every disease there was a saint who
could ward it off. It was part of the wise woman’s lore to know all
these saints and to invoke their aid when she applied her herbs. Here
is a list:—St. Appolus preserved the teeth, St. Otilia the eyes, St.
Vitus the brain, St. Laurence the back and shoulders, St. Valentine
prevented the falling sickness, St. Erasmus saved from colic, St.
Blasius from quinsy, St. Peruel from ague, St. John from prison (a very
dreadful disease), St. Mark from sudden death, St. Suran from infamy,
St. Wolfgang from gout, St. Agatha from fire, St. Christopher from
ghosts, St. Anne from wealth—why was not she the patron saint of this
merchant city? St. Wendlin kept the cattle, St. Antony the hogs, St.
Gertrude drove off mice and rats, St. Magnus grasshoppers, St. Nicolas
protected mariners, St. Indocus the crops, St. George looked after the
horsemen, St. Luke the painters, St. Cosmus the physicians, St. Leonard
the prisoners, St. Botolph the travellers, while all these functions
and many others were ascribed to the Virgin Mary, in whom was centred
all the love and faith and veneration and hope possible among millions
of ignorant women governed by their affections and passions.
They were great believers in charms in those days: in the peril of
child-birth the women purified the chamber to keep off evil spirits;
the men went to sea, on a journey, to battle, with charms hung round
their necks to keep them safe. These charms were sometimes a verse
of the Gospel enclosed in a silver box hung about the neck with a
silver chain: or words meaning nothing, or crosses drawn with blood or
painted; the men had their swords charmed or blessed; they had their
horses charmed. Again, the people were great believers in astrology,
necromancy, and the influence of the moon. Before undertaking anything
the position of the moon was first consulted. Unless this was
favourable they would not only abstain from beginning any enterprise
of importance, but they would not bathe, or cut their hair, or pare
their nails, or even take medicine. Some of these superstitions we
know still linger, but they exercise no real influence. Lucky and
unlucky days are all forgotten: omens are very feeble things, we have
practically outgrown them. But we must realise that in the London of
the fourteenth century the whole population were under the governance
of superstitions; I am not speaking of their religion, but of the
superstitious beliefs that are outside religious dogma and religious
observance. The time seems to those who look into it full of activity,
full of joyousness, full of brightness. All these things, undoubtedly,
do belong to Plantagenet London. Wealth, good work, good wages,
splendid dress, good food, good wine, good ale, and outdoor life—yet,
withal, an ever-present dread of the unknown, of the immediate future,
of what chance, luck, fate or the anger of a saint might bring. It
was, in a word, the life which seizes with avidity on the present, and
enjoys what the gods provide from day to day.
CHAPTER IV
HERMITS AND ANCHORITES
There is one branch of ecclesiastical history which has been curiously
neglected, that, namely, concerned with the anchorite, ankret,
anchoress, or ankress. That is to say, it is generally concluded that a
hermit and an anchorite are the same persons. One might as well think
that a monk is the same as a friar.
There was nothing to prevent a hermit setting up his cell wherever
he pleased; yet there were certain places where a hermitage was a
recognised institution, and the hermit was, so to speak, presented
as to a living. Thus, there was a hermitage outside the City wall at
Aldgate, one at Bishopsgate, one at Cripplegate, one at Charing Cross,
one at St. Laurence Jewry; a hermitage was often found at a bridge,
and by the roadside, in a forest, or in any place not too secluded,
because a hermit lived upon alms, and had therefore of necessity to
reside near the haunts of men. The character and reputation of the
hermitage depended entirely upon the character of the occupant, and
therefore varied from time to time. William of Langland speaks of “fals
hermits,”—“But these hermits who build their dwelling by the highway,
of yore were workmen, weavers and tailors, and carters’ knaves, and
graceless clerks. They kept full hungry house and had much want, long
labour and little earning, and at last espied that liars in friars’
clothing had fat cheeks. Therefore these unlearned knaves left their
labour and clothed themselves in cloaks like clerks, or as if they were
of some Order, or else prophets.”
Hermitages were not occupied continuously; if one hermit died, his
cell was vacated, and not necessarily filled up. A few of these
hermitages remain, as, for example, that of Warkworth, which is a very
striking monument. On the other hand, an anchorite was a recluse; he
was shut up and separated from the world; he never came out of his
cell. Before a man or woman was allowed to become an anchorite he had
to obtain a license from the Bishop, who also required of the Rector
or Vicar of his church, of the Abbot or Prior of the House, that the
anchorite should be properly supplied with food. The hermit was free to
roam—_solivagus_; the anchorite was shut up—_conclusus_. The difference
between the hermit and the anchorite is drawn clearly by R. Sharpe
(_Calendar of Wills_, ii. 33).
“An Anchorite’s cell—or ankerhold, as it was sometimes called—was
usually in or near a church, although not always: it was so situate
that the recluse might see the altar and hear the service, and its door
was locked and often walled up, one or more iron-barred windows being
left open by which he could receive the Communion and the necessaries
of life. He was often a priest and much resorted to as a confessor, as,
indeed, were also some hermits. The latter, however, commonly followed
a trade or occupation.
Although anchorites were not hermits, ankerholds were sometimes called
hermitages, and the distinction between the two classes of religious is
not always preserved in the Husting wills. Thus we have in one will a
reference made to the tenement of the hermit of Cripplegate—a hermitage
founded by Mary de St. Pol, Countess of Pembroke, for the soul of her
unfortunate husband Aylmer de Valence—and in another a bequest made to
the anchorite at Cripplegate, as well as to the anchorite at Holborn.
That both classes were held in high esteem by the citizens of London is
shown by the numerous bequests made to every anchorite and every hermit
in or near London. Besides the anchorites or hermits at Cripplegate
and Holborn, we have special mention made of the hermit in the meadows
beyond the Thames, the hermit near Charing Cross, and the hermit near
Bishopsgate: the anchorite living in the Church of St. Peter, Cornhill;
Friar John Ingram, the anchorite near the hospital of St. Katharine
in the neighbourhood of the Tower, previously described in the will
of Geoffrey Patrik (1371) as the hermit living at a place called ‘le
Swannesnest’ near the Tower; and, in the same will, Friar Richard de
Swepeston, the hermit near the Church of St. Laurence in the Jewry, and
Geoffrey his companion. The mention of a companion for a hermit seems
incongruous, but it appears from a rule for solitaries drawn up by
Grimlaic, an anchorite priest in the ninth century, or perhaps somewhat
later, that several were permitted to dwell together in one enclosure
and have communication by a window, provided the cell of every one was
separate.”
Of ankresses there were many. Such was Juliana of Norwich, whose
book of Ejaculations has been preserved: such was the anchoress of
Bishopsgate, who received 40s. a year from the Sheriffs of London. Such
was Christina of St. Alban’s: such were the anchoresses of St. Giles,
St. Benedict, and St. Mary de Manny.
The frequent mention in the _Calendar of Wills_ of the anchorites in
and around London shows that there were always many of these _inclusi_,
and that they were held in great respect; but since men, evidently
not wealthy, left money to all, it is certain that there were not
anchorites and ankresses attached to every church. So few of the old
London churches are left that it is impossible to look to them for much
information on this point. It is said that traces of the anchorite’s
cell may still be seen in the Inner Cloisters of Westminster Abbey, but
for my own part I have failed to distinguish them. They should be part
of the ruins of St. Catherine’s Chapel. If, however, we turn to the
village churches about the country, we find indications which point to
the anchorite’s cell as well as to other things.
Thus, it is not uncommon to find in the chancel of many churches built
before the fifteenth century low side windows, sometimes with shutters,
sometimes without. These are commonly called lepers’ windows, and one
is told how the lepers, forbidden to enter the church, were allowed
to assist in the mass by looking through the window at the altar. The
Cambridge Camden Society called them lychnoscopes.
As regards the theory of the lepers, we must remember the rigid laws
concerning the separation of leprous persons: they were not allowed
to enter inns, churches, mills, or bakehouses; they were not to touch
healthy persons; they were not to eat with healthy persons; they were
not to wash in streams; they were not to walk in narrow footpaths; they
wore a distinctive dress, and they carried a clapper to give warning of
their approach. There were also lazar-houses for their residence, no
less than ninety-five of the first class in England, besides smaller
ones. With these regulations, what room was there for an isolated leper
in a village? Where would he live? How would he live? Where there were
small lazar-houses the lepers’ window is conceivable, but not in the
little village where the leper could not be allowed to live at all.
So that for most of these villages we may discard the theory of the
lepers’ squint altogether.
A valuable paper on the low side windows of certain Surrey churches
may be found in the _Transactions of the Surrey Archæological Society_
(vol. xiv. part ii.), in which the writer gives drawings of many of
these windows with detailed descriptions, and shows that they served
one of two purposes—either for the confessional, in which case the
priest sat within the church and the penitent knelt without; he proves
that the practice was common in these churches where the only other
place of confession was “behind the veil,” _i.e._ in the chancel. The
other purpose was for the anchorite to take part in the service through
this window. There are indications in some of the churches that a
cell formerly existed against the church wall, _e.g._ the marks of a
peat-roof in the wall. In one church, that of Hurtly, near Rainham, the
cell itself remains to this day.
The writer observes that these low side windows are not found in
churches built during the second half of the fifteenth century. He
attributes this to the decay into which the friars, who had formerly
been the favourite confessors, had fallen. In another place, I have
shown that the practice of making bequests to the friars, hermits, and
anchorites of London gradually decayed and finally ceased during the
same period. May we not believe that the decay of the respect formerly
paid to the religious of all kinds affected the demand for anchorites
and therefore the supply? It is surely reasonable to believe that when
the calling or profession of an _inclusus_ was no longer attended by
the general belief in superior sanctity, one attraction, perhaps the
principal one, towards the life would no longer exist, while it is
certain that the knowledge and the proof of such a belief would be
a powerful support and a certain encouragement to the anchorite in
enduring the lonely vigils, the frosts and cold, the silence of the
night, the visits and the mockeries and the terror of the Fiend, and
all the miseries of the cell, which he was never to leave until death
called him forth.
In my book on “Westminster” I have described the consecration of
a recluse—supposing, without any historical foundation, that the
Sub-prior was ready to take the place of the late anchorite. The manner
of the consecration is supposed to be described by one of the monks:—
“The Sub-prior, being a priest, was taken into the choir, where he
prostrated himself with bare feet. The Abbot and three of the brethren
who were priests having taken their places, the Cantor began the
service with the responsory, _Beati in melius_, after which the Abbot
and assistants before the altar sang with the choir certain Psalms
fourteen in number. After the Psalms followed a Litany, the choir
singing after each clause, _Ora pro eo_. The Litany finished, the
Abbot advanced towards the prostrate brother bearing a crucifix, a
thurible, and holy water, and, standing over him, he thrice sprinkled
him with water, censed him, and prayed over him. The Abbot then raised
the candidate with his own hands, and gave him two lighted tapers, at
the same time admonishing him to remain steadfast in the love of God.
Then the candidate, standing, listened to the Deacon, who read first
from the prophet Isaiah, next the Gospel according to Saint Luke, as
on the Festival of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. After this the
new garments which he was to put on were blessed. The candidate then
took the vows, which were three only, and those the same as the vows at
profession, viz. of chastity, of obedience, and of steadfastness.
The candidate next kneeled at the altar, and, kissing it three times,
repeated each time the words _Suscipe me, Domine_, etc., the choir
responding. This done he offered the two tapers at the altar, and again
kneeled while the Abbot removed his monastic frock and clothed him with
the garments newly blessed. Then followed a service of prayer. It was
the _Veni Creator_, with the _Paternoster_ and _Et ne nos_. The Abbot
then, standing on the north side of the altar, preached to the brethren
and to the congregation assembled, commending the new recluse to their
prayers. The candidate then himself sang the mass of the Holy Ghost.
We had now completed that part of the consecration which takes place
in the church. The Abbot then took the new recluse by the hand and
led him down the nave of the church, followed by the choir and all
the brethren, unto the little door leading into the West Cloister.
The church was filled with people to see the sight. A new recluse is
not seen every day. There were the _domicellae_, the maidens of the
Queen, come from the Palace; there were knights and pages, and even
men-at-arms; there were sanctuary men, women, and children; men with
hawks upon their wrists; men with dogs; merchants from the wool staple;
girls of wanton looks from the streets and taverns beyond the walls.
The hawks jangled their bells, the dogs barked, the women chattered,
the men talked loudly, the girls looked at the brothers as they passed,
and whispered and laughed: and I heard one brother say to another that
this was a thing which would make the Sub-prior return to the monastery
an he saw it. And all alike craned their necks to see the man who was
going to be shut up in a narrow cell for the rest of his days.
The ankret’s cell is on the south side of the Infirmary Cloister.
It is built of stone, being twelve feet long, eight feet broad, and
with an arched roof about ten feet high. On the side of the church
there is a narrow opening by which the occupant can hear mass and can
see the elevation in the Chapel of St. Catherine. On the other side
is a grating by which he can receive his food and converse with the
world. But it is too high up for him to see out of it; therefore he
has nothing to look upon but the walls of his cell. This morning the
west side had been broken down in order to remove the body of the dead
man and to cleanse the cell for the new-comer. So, while we gathered
round in a circle, and the people stood behind us, the Abbot entered
the cell, and censed it, and sprinkled it with holy water, singing
more Psalms and more prayers. When he came forth the recluse himself
entered, saying aloud: _Hæc requies mea in seculum seculi_. The choir
sang another Psalm. Then the Abbot sprinkled dust upon the head of the
recluse with the words beginning _De terra plasmasti_.
This done, the _Operarius cum suis operariis_ replaced the stones
and built up the wall anew. And then, singing another Psalm, we went
back to the cloister, leaving the Sub-prior to begin his lifelong
imprisonment. A stone bench for bed, his frock for blanket, a crucifix,
and no other furniture. In the cold nights that followed, lying in my
bed in the dormitory, I often bethought myself of the former Sub-prior
alone in his dark cell, with Devils whispering temptation through the
grating (Devils always assail every new recluse), well-nigh frozen,
praying with trembling lips and chattering teeth. No, I am not worthy.
Such things are too high for me.”
It seems as if, for a period of some hundred years, every monastic
house and many churches possessed a recluse, man or woman. They were
specially bound to pray for the House or the Church, probably for the
parish as well. They frequently arrived at a reputation of the highest
sanctity; they were consulted as an oracle. Thus Richard the Second,
before he started on his dangerous journey to put down the rebellion,
consulted the anchorite of Westminster. So also Henry the Fifth spent
the night after his father’s funeral in weeping, prayer, and confession
with the anchorite’s successor.
The anchorite’s cell was not always of the same shape or form.
Sometimes it was partly or wholly underground; sometimes a grated
window communicated with the outside and enabled the occupier to
see and to be seen; sometimes the grated window was too high for the
anchorite to see his visitors or to be seen by them. In the nunnery
of Marmoustin at Tours there was an anchorite’s cell in which the
occupant was totally secluded; at Royston there was a subterranean
cell to which there was an approach from the outside and an opening on
the top. The approach was probably blocked up when the recluse entered
the cell and all communications were through the upper opening. At
Bengeo, Herts. (see Appendix VII.), the anchorite’s cell consisted of
a wooden hut placed against the north-east end of the chancel. It was
eight feet long and six feet high; there was a recess in the wall for
the anchorite’s bed and seat; there was an entrance into the church;
perhaps the anchorite was a chantry priest.
[Illustration: ALL HALLOWS, LONDON WALL]
Sometimes there were two ankresses living in the churchyard, but not
in the same cell. Henry the Fourth before his accession to the throne
endowed an anchorite’s cell in a village of Lancashire. The ankress
very often took care of the church and kept it clean. As regards
London, the bequests to anchorites are numerous. We read of ankresses
at St. Michael’s and St. Giles, Cornhill; at St. Giles, St. Benedict,
and St. Mary Manny, we read of a lady getting so many square feet of
ground for the purpose of building an anchorite’s cell; we read of
anchorites at St. Albans, St. Giles, and Westminster Abbey.
One of the earliest Old English works is the _Ancren Reiwle_ or Rule
for Anchorites. It was written for three ladies who had resolved upon
adopting the recluse life in a village in Dorsetshire. The author
is doubtful. It was perhaps Richard Poor, Bishop successively of
Chichester, Salisbury, and Durham, in which case it is older than
1237, the year of Richard Poor’s death; or else by Simon of Ghent, a
native of London, Archdeacon of Oxford, 1284, Bishop of Salisbury,
1297. He died in 1315. The dates are of importance, because the recluse
life would not seem to have become common before the middle of the
thirteenth century, and it would further seem to have fallen into
disuse by the end of the fourteenth century. The work itself seems
to show that these ladies were adopting a new thing, or at least an
unusual thing.
During the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, however, we must
remember that in every Monastic House, and in most churches, the cell
of the anchorite was built against the chancel wall with an opening to
allow the occupant to “see God,” _i.e._ to witness the elevation of the
mass every day; that at all hours of the day and night were to be heard
the prayers, the praises, the ejaculations, the groans of the man or
woman thus buried alive.
It is difficult to understand the attraction of such a life. Probably
the very horror of it attracted some minds. To be alone day and night
so long as life should last, to pray continually, never to enjoy one
single comfort or solace or relief from physical pain, to be always
cold, always hungry, always clad in rags, always unkempt and unwashed,
to have to battle every night with superstitious terrors and the
invention of an excited imagination, to dwell perpetually on images of
death, these things make the life so terrible that the mere merit of
choosing it appeared extraordinary; the Gates of Heaven would surely
be thrown open to one who had passed years of such endurance and such
combat.
Picture to yourself such an anchorite. He rises slowly from his knees;
his limbs are full of rheumatic pains; he straightens himself with
difficulty; he advances to the grating and looks through the bars.
He is a gaunt tall man, as thin as living man can be; he is clad in
rags; his hair flows over his shoulders; his beard falls down to his
waist; his cheeks are hollow; his shrunken eyes are like coals of
fire. He prays for the Church and all the souls of those who belong to
the Church, that is to say, the dead as well as the living. Great are
the blessings conferred on a parish by the prayers of an anchorite!
He prays all day and all night; while others sleep the anchorite
is offering continual supplication. He is racked with pains; he is
always cold, always hungry, always unwashed; yet he is not unhappy.
He is supported by Faith undoubting; and he has consolations and
compensations. The Virgin Mary sends him angels who sing carols for
him alone to hear; they are a foretaste of the singing in Heaven;
he is allowed even to see the gates of Heaven standing open and the
blessed saints sitting on their thrones exactly like the barons at a
coronation. And he is visited by devils who are always beaten back
and are always returning with fresh whispers and fresh temptations.
Sweet are the joys of battle! He wrestles nightly with the Fiend, and
every night sends him out of the barred window screeching with rage
and disappointment. Oh, the anchorite is a happy man! And sometimes he
is blessed with the gift of prophecy: he knows what is coming: in the
morning he remembers his vision, and perhaps the very words are taken
down and preserved. He is also, if he chooses, the parish oracle: he
is asked to advise on all subjects, for there is no subject into which
religion cannot enter. Merchants consult him about their ventures;
women about their love affairs; princes about their policy. See, there
is a girl tripping over the long grass: she bears a basket; it contains
a gift of food for the anchorite, such simple food as he will receive;
and she comes with heightened colour because she is going to ask a
question of a most delicate nature concerning a young man. In some
churchyards, where the anchorite is good-humoured and popular, or where
there is an ankress, the grating of a cell has been known to become a
place of resort; it is said that scandals and mischievous gossip were
sometimes first started outside the ankress’ cell; all the women went
there to talk of what was going on in the parish; the cell became a
nuisance; the parish priest spoke about it; the Bishop heard of it.
Think of the effect upon the imagination produced outside by the mere
voice of the unseen solitary who, as long as he lived, would never
change his clothes, nor wash himself, nor cut his hair or beard, nor
look upon the face of other men, nor see the sunshine and the blue sky,
nor look for any physical comfort or solace so long as life should
endure. They knew he was there; they came and spoke to him; the hollow
voice came out of the grave in reply; they lowered food; one day they
came and heard no voice in reply; they removed the stones and looked
in. God had summoned the man of long endurance; who would take his
place?
I said, above, that for a hundred years there were anchorites attached
to most churches. My reason for assigning this period is that the
London citizens began to bequeath property to anchorites in the middle
of the fourteenth century, in the year 1341, and left off the practice
at the same time as they left off bequeathing property to the Friars
about the year 1400. For sixty years there was a general formula with
all those who had property to leave. They bequeathed small sums to
their own parish church, to all the five orders of friars, to every
anchorite in London, or to every anchorite, man or woman, in and about
the City of London, to every hermit in London, to every leper in
London, to every poor prisoner in London. The reason why the fashion
of giving bequests to the maintenance of solitaries began so late
and ended so quickly was, I suppose, that the practice of building
anchorites’ cells became more common in the fourteenth century than it
had been in former times; that men clutched at every chance of getting
prayers as well as masses for their souls; that the appearance of so
many newly built cells struck their imagination; that they thought the
prayers of a holy anchorite must be of great efficacy inasmuch as the
man not only led a saintly life but endured continual sufferings. In
the same way they left money to lepers and to prisoners in order to
obtain their prayers.
And the reason why the fashion of bequeathing money to anchorites
suddenly ceased was that by the end of the fourteenth century the mind
of London was saturated with that part of Lollardy which scoffed at
hermits, friars, and monks. At the time when the House of Commons was
petitioning the King to suppress all Religious Houses of every kind,
the rich men of the City left off, as if by common consent, as if by
a kind of conspiracy or secret resolution, the bequeathing of money
to friars, hermits, and anchorites. A broad black line is drawn. No
more money shall be left to these people. It would be interesting,
if it were possible, to learn what became of the anchorites and the
hermits. Some of them, no doubt, survived till the Reformation. Can
we imagine, with the Dissolution of the Monastery, the suppression of
the Anchorite? Can we imagine the old man, with his grey hair, his
beard flowing to his waist, scarcely clad decently in the rags which
he has worn for fifty years, with sunken cheeks and haggard face and
wild eyes blinking at the light, and wondering why after so many years
he is dragged out once more into the sunshine and the sight of his
fellow-men?
CHAPTER V
PILGRIMAGE
Pilgrimage, never so great a craze in London as in the country, or in
England as in France, plays an important part in the mediæval life. The
earliest pilgrimage was, of course, to the Holy Places of Jerusalem:
it began in the second century with a journey to the site of the
Ascension. The other sites multiplied with the increase of pilgrims and
the demand for sites and sacred relics and associations. The desire to
go pilgrimaging grew and spread with great rapidity among all classes.
In the century before the Crusades the roads to Palestine were black
with swarms of pilgrims: we have the history of many early pilgrimages,
including that written down by the Abbot Adamnanus of Scotland from
the lips of the shipwrecked pilgrim Arnulfus, and that of Willibald
the English pilgrim who started with his father and sister Walfunga,
his brother Wunibald, and a large party of followers and servants: in
Italy the father died and the brother and sister went home: Willibald
persevered and reached Jerusalem safely.
It is easy to understand why the pilgrimage attracted so many. It was
full of adventure and of danger. On the other hand, it was greatly
meritorious: if one was killed on a pilgrimage, the doors of heaven
were thrown open: if one returned in safety the term of purgatory was
shortened. Then the pilgrim got away from his work: he had nothing to
do but to plod on: he wanted no money: every day brought him to some
hospitable monastery where he found supper, bed, and breakfast: he made
new acquaintances and new friends perpetually: the way was enlivened
by talk, and by casual potations: in the evening there was sometimes
revelry at an inn, with wine or ale and music and dancing and the shows
of the _jogleurs_. Who would not exchange the dull and tedious life in
the country for a time of such varied experience and entertainment?
The practice quickly became an abuse. The peasant deserted his plough,
his wife, and his children, to go pilgrimaging. The craftsman left his
bench and his shop, in search of adventures as a pilgrim: even the
monk left his monastery to wander out into the world, sometimes never
to come back again: sometimes he did come back, with the confession
of broken vows. The Church, therefore, interfered. No one must go on
pilgrimage without the Bishop’s license. This granted, the pilgrim
was solemnly invested with the scrip and staff, and the long woollen
robe which formed the chief part of his dress. The parish priest with
his friends accompanied him to the boundaries of his parish and he set
forth, armed with the Bishop’s license and a passport which procured
him hospitality in all Christian countries.
“In the name of God,” ran the commendatory letter, “we would have your
highness or holiness to know that the bearer of the present letters,
our brother, has asked our permission to go peaceably on pilgrimage to
Jerusalem, either for his own sins, or to pray for our preservation.
Thereupon, we have given him these present letters, in which we salute
you, and pray you, for the love of God and Saint Peter, to receive him
as your guest, to be useful to him in going and coming back, so that he
may return in safety to his house: and as is your good custom, make him
pass happy days. May God the Eternal King protect you, and keep you in
His kingdom!”
The Church did more than bless the pilgrim: it celebrated in one of
those dramas by which so much was taught, the act of pilgrimage itself,
in a service which has been preserved. The following is an abridgment:—
“In the nave of the church was erected a fort, ‘castellum,’
representing the house at Emmaus where the two travellers entered
and broke bread with Christ. At the appointed time two priests, ‘of
the second seats,’ appointed for the day, came forth from the vestry
singing the hymn which begins ‘Jesu, nostra redemptio.’ They were to
be dressed in tunics, ‘et desuper cappis transversum,’ were to have
long flowing hair and beards, and were each to carry a staff and scrip.
Singing this hymn, and slowly marching down the right aisle, they came
to the western porch, where they put themselves at the head of the
procession of choristers waiting for them, and all began together to
sing, ‘Nos tuo vultu saties.’ Then the priest for the day, robed in
alb and surplice, bare-footed, carrying a cross on his right shoulder,
advanced to meet them, and ‘standing suddenly before them,’ asked,
‘What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another as
ye talk and are sad?’ To which the two pilgrims replied, ‘Art thou a
stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to
pass there in these days?’
‘What things,’ asked the priest. ‘Concerning Jesus of Nazareth,’ they
replied, with the words which follow. ‘Oh, fools!’ said the priest,
‘and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken.’ And
then, feigning to retire, the priest would there have left them, but
they held him back, and pointing to the ‘castellum,’ entreated him to
enter, singing, ‘Abide with us for it is towards evening and the day
is far spent.’ Then singing another hymn, they led him to the ‘Fort of
Emmaus,’ which they entered, and where they sat down at a table already
spread for supper. Here the priest brake bread sitting between them,
and being recognised by this act for the Lord, ‘suddenly vanished out
of their sight.’ The pilgrims, pretending to be stupefied, arose and
sang sorrowfully (_lamentabiliter_) ‘Alleluia,’ with the verse, ‘Did
not our hearts burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and
while he opened to us the Scriptures?’ Singing this twice they walked
to the pulpit, where they sang the verse, ‘Dic nobis Maria.’ After
this, another priest, dressed in a dalmatic and surplice, with head
muffled up like a woman, came to them and sang, ‘Sepulcrum Christi
Angelicos testes.’ He then took up a cloth from one place, and a second
from another place, and threw them before the great door of the choir.
And (the directions conclude) then let him sing, ‘Christ has risen,’
and let the choir chaunt the two other verses which follow, and let the
women and the pilgrims retire within: and the memory of this act being
thus recalled, let the procession return to the choir, and the vespers
be finished.”
[Illustration: WILSDON, MIDDLESEX]
There was also the pilgrimage of punishment, when a criminal was
condemned to wander up and down the road whithersoever the Pope should
direct him. There were many of those poor wretches to be met with on
the road; most of them were murderers; a chain was made in which was
worked up the sword or knife or other weapon with which the crime was
committed; the neck, arms, and body of the criminal were bound round
with this chain; so equipped, the malefactor toiled painfully from
shrine to shrine, living on alms. It was not until the fourteenth
century that the practice was discontinued. Can anything prove more
abundantly the power of the Church than this punishment of murderers,
who were simply loaded with these chains and then commanded to go forth
on a pilgrimage from shrine to shrine? There was no police to enforce
obedience; there was no guard set over the criminals; they were told to
go and walk to a certain shrine and there to await further orders; and
they obeyed.
There were two kinds of pilgrimage: _peregrinatio major_ and
_peregrinatio minor_. Of the former kind were those to the Holy Land
and to Rome. Of the latter kind, those which generally satisfied
our ancestors, were those to Walsingham with its Virgin, Glastonbury
with its holy thorn, Waltham with its black cross, St. Edmund’s Bury
with the body of the King, Durham with the shrine of St. Cuthbert,
Chichester with that of St. Richard; there were also Beverley,
Winchester, Lincoln, York, Peterborough—all famous shrines. The two
places most popular were the Walsingham and the Canterbury pilgrimages.
But in thinking of Chaucer’s immortal company we must remember that
such companies left London daily in the summer bound for one or other
of these holy places. In the illogical confusion of things belonging
to the period the pilgrimage which for many was an orgy and a period
of unbounded license all the way, was coupled with prayers devout and
tears unfeigned.
It would be idle to look too closely into the accounts of pilgrimages
for evidences of the religious spirit among the pilgrims. Yet such
evidences are found, notably in the fervent prayers and praises of
Felix Fabri, who will be mentioned immediately. It is sufficient to
remember that with the great mass of the people religion consisted in
obedience. They had but to do what the Church ordered. After death
there would be purgatory. Pilgrimage and other observances shortened
the period of purgatory. They went, therefore, partly with that object,
partly with the desire of seeing strange countries, partly to work off
the restlessness that falls upon men, as upon nations, from time to
time.
Wyclyf, William of Langland, Chaucer, Gower, all the mediæval writers,
continually make allusions to pilgrims. Sometimes the life of
pilgrimage is ridiculed. Thus William of Langland speaks of the “crowd
of hermits with hooked staves, who wend to Walsingham and their wenches
after them, boobies who are unable to labour, clothe themselves in
cloaks to be known from the others, and become hermits for their ease.”
Sometimes the tales of the pilgrims are derided.
“Pylgrimis and palmers plyghten hem to-gederes,
To seche saint Jame and seyntys of Rome,
Wenten forth in hure way with many un-wyse tales,
And heven leve to lye al hure lyf-tyme.”
Thorpe (Skeat’s _Notes to Chaucer_, p. 49), when examined by Arundel,
Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1407, complains of the pilgrims, saying:
“They will ordain to have with them both men and women that can
well sing wanton songs: and some other pilgrims will have with them
bagpipes: so that every town that they come through, what with the
noise of their singing, and with the sound of their piping, and with
the jangling of their Canterbury bells, and with the barking out of
dogs after them, they make more noise than if the King came there away,
with all his clarions and many other minstrels. And if these men and
women be a moneth in their pilgrimage, many of them shall be an half
year after, great jangelers, tale-tellers, and lyers.”
But the Archbishop said, “Leude Losell, Thou seest not ferre ynough in
this matter, for thou considerest not the great trauel of pilgremys,
therefore thou blamest the thing that is praisable. I say to thee that
it is right well done that pilgremys have with them both syngers and
also pypers, that whan one of them that goeth barfoote striketh his toe
upon a stone and hurteth hym sore, and makyth him to blede; it is well
done that he or his felow begyn then a songe, or else take out of his
bosom a baggepipe for to drive away with suche myrthe the hurt of his
felow. For with soche solace the trauel and weeriness of pilgremys is
lightely and merily broughte forth.”
Sometimes the people invented saints and shrines for themselves, as
when they flocked to the tomb of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, a man far
removed from the saintly life, or to that of Simon de Montfort. In
1338 a grocer of London sold a mazer ornamented with the image of St.
Thomas of Lancaster. And a few years later the people made a saint of
the preacher and hermit Richard Rolle of Hampole. All these popular but
ephemeral saints worked miracles abundantly while the faith in their
power lasted. Would that some poet had depicted the swarm of pilgrims
who, in the year when the grocer sold that mazer, rode out of London on
a pilgrimage to Pontefract where St. Thomas of Lancaster was buried!
Not only must men get a license to go on a pilgrimage: the shipmen who
carried them were also licensed. Pilgrims to foreign parts went either
to Calais and thence by land, or, if they were going to Compostella,
they went all the way by sea. Thus, the ship called _La Charité
de Paynton_, Peter Cok, Captain, was licensed to carry a hundred
pilgrims. “Le Petre de Dartemouth” was licensed for sixty, “La Marie de
Southampton” for one hundred, “Le Thomas de Saltash” for sixty, and so
on.
In the narrative of Felix Fabri (A.D. 1484) pilgrims to the Holy Land
(see _Palestine Pilgrims Text Society_, vols. vii.-x.) we can read how
the long pilgrimages were conducted on board ship. Felix sailed from
Venice. The methods were much the same for pilgrims from every country,
except that the ships which had to cross the Bay of Biscay, and to sail
round the headlands of Portugal, were probably stouter than those which
sailed in the Mediterranean alone.
The pilgrim paid so much for the voyage there and back: he was also
taken to the Holy Places under escort. A special contract was entered
into with each party. Thus, that of Felix consisted of twelve,
viz. four noble Lords and eight attendants, viz. a kind of general
manager or courier, a barber and musician, an old soldier for a
manservant, a bourgeois for manciple, a cook, an ex-trader who had
been a galley slave and acted as interpreter, a “man of peace,” who
was a schoolmaster by profession, and Felix himself, Priest of the
Order of Preaching Friars. The articles of the contract were, in
brief, these—the party were to be conveyed from Venice to Joppa and
back again. They were to receive two full meals a day, with a cup of
malvoisie every morning before breakfast; they were to be protected
from ill-usage by the galley slaves; they were to be taken to see all
the Holy places; and they were to pay forty ducats a head. The value of
the ducat at this time I cannot pretend to estimate. There were gold
ducats and silver ducats; ducats of Hungary, Austria, Hamburg and Italy.
On the weighing of the anchors, the Germans sang together the Pilgrims’
Hymn:—
“In Gottes Namen fahren wir:
Seiner Gnaden begehren wir:
Nun helff uns die Gottliche Kraft und das Heilige Geist:
Kyrie Eleison!”
It would be pleasant to know the words of the English Pilgrims’ Hymn
on arrival within sight of Joppa, when they all sang together, led by
two priests. There were many nations represented on board the ship,
Italians, Lombards, Gauls, Franks, Germans, English, Irish, Scots,
Hungarians, Dacians, Bohemians, Spaniards, and they joined together in
the “Hymn of Ambrose and Augustine,” _i.e._ the _Te Deum Laudamus_.
As for the life on board, the inconveniences, the insects, the
turbulent slaves, the sea-sickness, Felix spares us nothing. The
earliest of our sea songs, belonging to nearly the same date, is an
account of a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Saint Iago of Compostella. It
is evidently the work of one who writes from experience. The ship is
filled with pilgrims, and they are all sea-sick together:—
“Men may leve all gamys,
That saylen to Saint James’s;
For many a man hilt gramys;
When they begin to sayle.
For when they have take the sea,
At Sandwyche or at Wynchylsea,
At Bristow, or where that hyt bee,
Theyr hertes begin to fayle.
Thys menewhyle the pylgryms lye,
And have theyr bowlys fast them by,
And cry afthyr hote malvesy,
‘Thou helpe for to restore.’
And soon sold have a saltyd tost,
For they myght ete neyther sode ne rost,
A man might sone pay for theyr cost,
As for one day or twayne.
Some layd their bookys on theyr kne,
And rad so long they myght nat se:
Alas! myne hede will cleve on thre!
Thus sayeth another certayne.”
The itinerary of two pilgrimages made by one English traveller still
remains, and has been published by the Roxburghe Club. His name was
William Wey, Bachelor of Divinity, formerly fellow of the Royal College
of the most Blessed Mary at Eton beside Windsor. He travelled twice to
Jerusalem, in 1458 and in 1462, and once to St. James of Compostella
in 1465. He was “consecratus ad modum peregrinorum,” set apart by
the special service: he received the license of the King, so that
he was not to lose his fellowship by unauthorised absence; he left
Eton to join the Augustines of Hedington, or Edinton; he made his
last pilgrimage in the seventieth year of his age; and he died in the
monastery in the year 1476 aged eighty-six. Evidently a strong man. He
bequeathed, or gave, to the Brethren of Hedington, a great collection
of valuable relics and curiosities from the Holy Land.
Unfortunately he tells nothing of the start or the return, beginning
his pilgrimage at Venice. Here there was a regular service of ships,
where captains undertook to do the “round trip”—to Jerusalem and
back—for so much.
When he went to St. James of Compostella, there was a pilgrim fleet of
six ships which sailed from Plymouth, viz. from Portsmouth, Bristol,
Weymouth, Lymington, Plymouth—called the _Mary White_, and others—was
this the annual pilgrim fleet? or was it only one of many such fleets?
The itineraries of Wey illustrate the comparative ease with which
people travelled at that time. It was a long way to Palestine, but
not too long for a man of seventy to undertake. The traveller relates
stories of purses cut and jewels stolen, but there is no sense of other
dangers or of any terrors: the pilgrims were taken on board; they were
carried to the port; they were landed; they were conducted under escort
to their shrines; and they were brought home again. It is noticeable
that Wey’s two companions on his first pilgrimage were priests like
himself. In Chaucer’s time, as is well known, all who could afford the
time and money went on pilgrimage. Thus the wife of Bath:—
“Thrice hadde sche ben at Jerusalem:
Sche hadde passed many a strange stream:
At Rome she hadde been and at Bologne:
In Galice at Seynt James and at Cologne.”
One imagines that the long civil wars and the widespread Lollardy,
which was only silenced, not killed, interfered with the practice of
pilgrimage in the fifteenth century. On the other hand, Erasmus shows
us that the pilgrims to English shrines, at least, were numerous in his
time. The regular service of personally conducted pilgrimages to Venice
and back proves that pilgrimage to the Holy Land was not diverted or
interrupted, in spite of war raging all around.
At every shrine the pilgrim bought or was presented with a sign to show
that he had been there. These signs were cast in pewter or in lead. A
pilgrim who had been to many shrines came home with his cap or his coat
covered with these emblems. Thus Chaucer says (_Archæologia_, xxxviii.
p. 130):—
“Then as manere and custom is, signes there they bought,
For men of contre should know whome they had sought:
Eche man set his silver in such thing as they liked,
And in the meen while the miller had y-piked
His bosom ful of signs of Canterbury brochis.”
Afterwards
“They set their signys upon their hedes, and some upon their capp,
And sith to the dynerward they gan for to stapp.”
Erasmus makes Menedemus ask, “What kind of attire is this that thou
wearest? Thou art bedizened with semicircular shells, each full of
images of tin and lead, and adorned with straw chains, and thy arm
is girt with a bracelet of beads.” The reply is that he has been to
certain shrines on pilgrimage.
Besides the ordinary insignia of pilgrimage (see Skeat’s Notes to
_Piers Plowman_), every pilgrimage had its special signs, which the
pilgrim on his return wore conspicuously upon his hat or his scrip,
or hanging round his neck, in token that he had accomplished that
particular pilgrimage. Thus the ampullæ were the special signs of the
Canterbury pilgrimage; the scallop-shell was the sign of the pilgrimage
to Compostella (shrine of St. James in Galicia); whilst the signs of
the Roman pilgrimage were a badge with the effigies of St. Peter and
St. Paul, the cross-keys (keys-of-Rome) and the vernicle. The vernicle
was a copy of the handkerchief of St. Veronica, which was miraculously
impressed with the features of our Lord.
The late Dr. Hugo communicated to the Society of Antiquaries a paper
on this subject, accompanied by several specimens found on the
banks of the Thames. Remember, in examining these, that the greater
number of people went about the streets adorned with these emblems.
(_Archæologia_, xxxviii.)
We might expect that, as was the custom with one of the duties required
of the faithful, so it would happen with others. Thus, since the
soul was saved by means of prayer and praise, it mattered little who
sang or said those prayers, and a rich man could endow a priest in
perpetuity to say prayers for his soul every day. In the same way,
since a pilgrimage was in itself a most meritorious action, and equal
to many masses, a man might pay others to go on a pilgrimage for him.
This, in fact, was done. We find bequests of money for pilgrimages. One
merchant of London bequeathed sixty gold scudi to be given to some one
who would undertake, in the name of the testator, and for the good of
the testator’s soul, to go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre and
the sacred places of Jerusalem. Another left money with the object of
getting credit for going to the convent of Mount Sinai: while many left
smaller sums for pilgrimages to Santiago di Compostella and the Blessed
Virgin of Walsingham. Were there, one asks, professional pilgrims?
Did men painfully work through the exercises at shrine after shrine,
all for the good of souls stranger to themselves? Was there no way by
which they might divert the intention of the testator and reap for the
benefit of their own souls these accumulations of merits and good deeds?
When we think of a London pilgrim, one of two pictures presents itself.
We either see the companies assembling at the Tabard Inn bound for the
shrine of St. Thomas of Canterbury, or we see the smaller and more
serious party bound for the Holy Sepulchre and the sacred places of
Jerusalem. All our views of the mediæval life are curiously narrowed by
the influence of Chaucer. So strong and fine is the light thrown upon
the Canterbury Pilgrims and those to Palestine that we have forgotten
the many other shrines to which the pilgrim fared in search of a
blessing and the remission of his sins.
[Illustration: THE TABARD INN, BOROUGH
From a drawing by Philip Norman, F.S.A.]
But besides the English shrines already mentioned, there were other
local ones for the Londoner. There was the shrine of Our Lady of
Crome’s Hill, Greenwich, or that of the Holy Rood of Bermondsey, or
that of Our Lady of Willesden, or that of Our Lady of Muswell, or
that of “Our Lady that standeth in the Oke.” The last-named place of
pilgrimage was somewhere between Highgate and Islington. May its name
be supposed to linger in the modern form of Gospel Oak? The whole
country, in fact, was studded all over with shrines of local celebrity.
Outside London, no one, for instance, knew or cared about Our Lady of
Muswell: but to Londoners she was a very real saint, to whom multitudes
paid pilgrimage. Of these minor shrines, concerning which Chaucer is
silent, which Erasmus never visited, there are very few historical
notices extant. When they were suppressed and the images themselves
burned, there was no one left to care about the records and the papers
connected with them, so they, too, were burned, or they were left to
moulder in the muniment chest.
Or, if the Londoner wanted a pilgrimage with little personal exertion,
which might be performed in a single day, he could choose between the
shrine of Edward the Confessor at Westminster, a place of the greatest
sanctity: that of St. Erkenwald in St. Paul’s, also regarded as most
powerful and efficacious: there were two feasts of St. Erkenwald: on
these days all the clergy of the diocese repaired to the shrine robed
in their copes: special indulgences were granted to those who visited
this shrine.
The three shrines north of London, now so completely forgotten, all
lay in the heart of the great Middlesex Forest. Each of the miraculous
images was probably a Lady of the Oak: there was Our Lady of the Oak
all over Europe. The miraculous figure is always found in an oak,
and is always, it is said, _black_. Thus, Our Lady of Puy in France,
supposed to be the most ancient of these figures, is described as
being carved out of cedar, swathed round and round with fine linen
like a mummy, deep black, the face and features extremely long, the
eyes small and formed of glass, the look haggard and wild (_L. and
M. Archæological Trans._ iv. 178); and there is a Black Virgin at
Marseilles.
These shrines were near enough for a single day’s journey: a pleasant
summer’s ride through the gardens and orchards of Islington where the
Forest began, and so over the greensward and under the branches of
the wood to the clearing on the top of Muswell Hill, where now stands
the Alexandra Palace, and then stood the chapel containing the black
image swathed with linen, crowned, decked with gold and jewels, before
which stood the altar and burned the lamp day and night. Every day
through the summer came the penitents, the sick, the jovial pilgrims,
who only wanted to put in a plea for indulgence. Outside the chapel
there were taverns and merry-making places. First the pilgrim knelt at
the shrine; sometimes he went round it on his knees; and prayed, with
simple belief, if not with fervour; faith made the sick man whole;
faith absolved the penitent; faith made the most careless happy in the
belief that Our Lady of Muswell had knocked off many—he knew not how
many—years of purgatory. The religious act finished, no one objected to
pleasure and merriment. There are indications that the merriment was
not always seemly, nor was the pleasure always sinless. Yet pilgrimage
continued because the sick who had been healed spread abroad the story
of their miraculous cures, and because everybody wanted to get out of
purgatory as quickly as possible, and because it was a most delightful
form of holiday and recreation.
The Lollards preached against pilgrimages continually; a fact charged
against them by the Church time after time. Thus, when a Lollard named
William Dynet had to abjure his Lollardy in the year 1395, he swore
that thenceforth he would worship images and that he would never more
despise pilgrimages. A hundred and forty years more the worship of
images had to continue in the land. Piers Plowman speaks with contempt
of the sham holiness of pilgrims in words already quoted:
“Heremytes in an heep with hoked staves,
Wenten to Walsingham and their wenches after.”
Later on, one Father Donald, a Scotch Friar, said, preaching, “Ye men
of London, gang on yourself with your wives to Willesden, or else keep
them at home with you in sorrow.”
In the year 1509, when there occurred a fire in Willesden Church, which
damaged the sacred image, one Elizabeth, wife of John Sampson, citizen,
got into trouble for expressing a not unnatural doubt of the power
of the image to help others when she could not help herself. “If Our
Lady of Willesden might have holpen men and women which go to her of
pilgrimage, she would not have suffered her own tayle (taille) to have
been burnt.”
She had to abjure these sentiments publicly. But if the ordinary
citizens’ wives commonly talked in this manner, the way was surely
rapidly being prepared for the Reformation. In 1530—very shortly before
the end—one Dr. Crown, being questioned as to heresy, said, “I will
say again, do your duty and then your devotion ... when thou comest at
the Day of Judgment, He will not say unto thee ‘why wentest thou not
to Wilsdon a pilgrimage?’ He will say unto thee ‘I was an hungred and
thou gavest me no meat: I was nakyd and thou gavest me no clothys’: and
soche lyke.”
In September 1538 all the images—those of Walsingham, Ipswich,
Worcester, the Lady of Willesden, the Lady of Muswell, the Lady “that
standeth in the Oak,” and many others—were brought up to London and
publicly burned at Chelsea. Then the Fair, which went on all through
the summer, with noisy taverns, drunken men, disorderly women, music,
dancing, singing, tumblers, and minstrels, at Willesden, Muswell, and
other unknown places “in the Oake,” came to a sudden end. Silence set
in, and Willesden Church became the church of a little secluded village
in the midst of the Forest; the road to Muswell through the woods
became overgrown and forgotten, and nobody in the next generation knew
where stood the oak with its sacred image, which had attracted so many
thousands every year.
Besides these shrines of London, with their miraculous Virgins, there
were the Holy and wonder-working Roods, of which the most important
seems to have been that of Bermondsey Abbey. There were, also, objects
of pilgrimage, of votive offering, and of prayer, the Holy Wells of
which some 500 have been enumerated in England, and round London no
fewer than sixteen. The origin of Holy Wells is a subject that belongs
to archæology and scholarship; nor indeed is this the place for an
examination into the subject. Streams, rivers, fountains, springs,
have all been accounted holy, and possessed each its nymph or its god,
who demanded sacrifice. Wells were dressed with flowers: they were
used for divination; long before Christianity newly-born children were
passed through water; coins have been found by the hundred in wells
where they were thrown in order to read an oracle from the troubling
of the waters; there were superstitions about the springs; there were
superstitions about water drawn on certain nights; there were wishing
wells; there were wakes of the well; it was in some places held
necessary that converts should be baptized in clear running water.
Wells cured different diseases: one was good for the eye, and one for
the ear. Wells sprung up miraculously to mark the site of a martyrdom,
and so on.
The holy wells of London were as follows:—
1. Clerkenwell. This well, where the parish clerks held their plays,
was situated at the edge of Clerkenwell Green and on the south-east
corner of Ray Street. The Green stretched north-west of St. John’s
Priory Church.
2. St. Chad’s Well. The site of this well, which had medicinal
qualities, was just south of the present King’s Cross Station on the
Metropolitan Line.
3. St. Clement’s Well was north of St. Clement’s Church, close to
Clement’s Inn.
4. Islington. Here was a very holy spring, greatly believed in for its
restorative qualities. It was on the site of Sadler’s Wells Theatre.
5. Hampstead. The Holy Well of Hampstead was that called afterwards the
Shepherd’s Well, which is now represented by a drinking fountain in
Fitzjohn’s Avenue.
6. Muswell Hill. Besides the wonder-working Virgin of Muswell Hill,
there was the Well of St. Lazarus. The name implies that it was used by
lepers. Robert Bruce tried to cure his leprosy by bathing in its waters.
7. Kensington Gardens. Here was the Well of St. Gover, where, until a
few years ago, an attendant still dispensed the waters of the well.
8. St. Pancras Well was on the north side of St. Pancras Church.
9. At Tottenham there were two wells—that of St. Loy or St. Eloy, and
that called the Bishops’ Well.
10. Skinner’s Well was not far from Clerks’ Well, which is all the
information one has about it. The same may be said of Todwell,
Faggeswell, Loders Well, and Radwell, all now filled up and forgotten.
The site of the Holy Well was preserved until recently in the street of
that name.
11. At Shoreditch there was the Well of St. John; not far from
Shoreditch in Old Street, north of Tabernacle Square, was the spring
of St. Agnes le Clair, called also Dame Annice, the Clear and Anniseed
Clere.
CHAPTER VI
ORDEAL
Trial by ordeal was always possible in London, yet, in later years,
rarely practised. The reason of its rarity was, no doubt, the fact that
the accused person was in most cases the guilty person. In an age when
the judgment of God could be solemnly invoked, when there was absolute
belief in the punishments and tortures reserved for the guilty, a man
would, as a general rule, hesitate before loading his soul, heavy with
the actual crime, with perjuries and the blasphemy of calling upon an
offended God to prove his innocence; to invite, that is, the Father
of Justice himself to deliver a false judgment. It was this clear and
unquestioning faith which made the trial by ordeal possible for the
innocent man to claim, and generally impossible for the guilty.
There were many kinds of ordeal.
The first was the ordeal called the corsned, _i.e._ the eating of a
small cake of consecrated barley bread. The accused called upon the
Lord God to choke him with it if he were guilty. It was believed that
in this case his throat would become contracted and his jaws fixed.
It was so that Earl Godwin was said to have been adjudged guilty and
choked by the Hand of Justice which he had invoked.
The second method, long practised in the case of witches, was the
ordeal of cold water. The accused was stripped, his hands were tied
crosswise to his feet; he was sprinkled with holy water; he was
permitted to kiss the cross; a rope was tied around his waist, and
at the distance of two ells from his body a knot was tied; he was
then thrown into deep water; if he sank as deep as the knot he was
innocent; if not, he was guilty. The administration of the ordeal was
not conducted in the bare and simple method indicated above: it was
placed in the hands of priests; mass was said before it; there were
appropriate psalms and prayers; the accused confessed his sins to the
priest; before the whole congregation he called upon God to prove his
innocence; he swore upon the holy relics of the church that he was
innocent. The function was one of great solemnity, and calculated to
impress the minds of the people most deeply.
The ordeal by hot water was, it will be seen, as a mere ceremony, most
remarkable. One case will stand for many.
Four men, all belonging to the Ward of Chepe, were accused of robbery
and murder; the dead body of the murdered man had been found lying near
the Standard in Chepe stripped, and showing gaping wounds; the four men
were known to be “roreres,” that is, night wanderers and brawlers; the
evidence against them, chiefly circumstantial, warranted their arrest;
they claimed to prove their innocence by the ordeal of boiling water.
On the appointed day they were brought out from Newgate and conducted
to St. Sepulchre’s Church, where they first confessed and then attended
mass, being placed in the body of the church before the altar screen.
After mass a short special service was sung for them; they then, one
after the other, swore upon the relics that they were innocent; they
demanded, singly and one after the other, the proof by ordeal; they
solemnly implored the Lord to make manifest their innocence if they
were innocent, or to prove their guilt if they were guilty. This done,
a procession was formed. The whifflers marched first, followed by the
clergy and the singing boys. Then came the prisoners guarded by the
sergeant.
They were led out to Smithfield followed by a great crowd; the ordeal
was not a function that could be witnessed every day; the Londoners
have always turned out in force to witness an execution, or a flogging,
or pillory, or any act of justice. On Smithfield, at the east of the
Elms, that is, nearly in front of Bartholomew’s Hospital, a fire of
wood was burning in an open grate; upon this stood a caldron full of
water; the smoke of the fire rolled up round the caldron and was blown
hither and thither; with it ascended, or was blown about, the steam of
the boiling water; the flames crackled and licked the black sides of
the caldron, the water bubbled and overflowed and hissed. Behind the
caldron was a gibbet, with ropes for four. It was afterwards observed
that of the four men one preserved a cheerful and confident air, the
other three were haggard and wan; their limbs dragged as they went.
Arrived at the spot the Sheriff, who was present with the Alderman
of Chepe, informed the prisoners—which they knew already—that at the
bottom of the caldron lay a round white stone; they would each have
to dip an arm into the boiling water and bring out that stone without
scalding themselves.
The first to essay the adventure was the prisoner of the cheerful and
the confident countenance; the guards took off his doublet; they rolled
a thin piece of linen round his arm and sealed it with lead. They then
bade him advance. He stepped forward; he stood beside the caldron, his
arm raised; the Priest and singing men began a Psalm.
The smoke and the steam blew this way and that way; the man could not
be seen sometimes for the fumes; when the wind blew aside, the people
saw him still, hand upraised, watching the boiling water. Suddenly the
smoke and the steam were blown aside; he plunged his arm; the smoke
was blown back again; but he stood before the officers, the white stone
in his hand.
The crowd shouted. The Lord had proved his innocence.
He was set aside; he would be taken back to Newgate; three days
afterwards, the covering would be taken from his arm, and if there were
no signs of scalding he would be set free.
The next man stepped forward.
He plunged his hand at once; he groped about for the stone; he drew
out his hand; he plunged again; he drew it out with a yell of agony.
No need to look at the arm searchingly, it was horribly scalded. They
hanged him up at once.
The third man was brought forward.
He looked at his companion hanging; he looked at the caldron and the
fire. He fell on his knees confessing the crime.
So, likewise, did the fourth man.
So, out of four ropes, three were wanted; and for four of them who
were accused, the Lord Himself had pronounced the guilt of three and
established the innocence of one.
The fourth method was the ordeal by fire, in which the accused had
to lift a red-hot bar of iron without burning his hands, or to walk
barefoot over red-hot iron; or to put his hand into a red-hot iron
glove; or to pass through a blazing fire with his clothes untouched.
In the case of the bar of red-hot iron, the trial took place in the
church, and as soon as mass was begun the bar was placed in the coals;
at the last collect it was taken off. A stand of some kind was placed
near the fire, then a space of nine times the length of the prisoner’s
foot was measured off; this made a distance of about seven or eight
feet. This space was divided by lines into three. The prisoner had to
lift up the bar and to carry it by three steps across the space. His
hand was then bound up, and after three days it was examined. If it
showed signs of burning he was hanged.
These kinds of ordeal naturally fell into disuse as soon as people
began to suspect that there was “management” by the priests; their
suspicions began certainly as early as the time of William Rufus, and
perhaps earlier. The Normans, indeed, scoffed at all the old ordeals.
On one occasion, when twenty prisoners had successfully passed the
ordeal by fire, William Rufus laughed at the whole business and ordered
them all to be tried. But the ordeal by battle stood on a different
footing. In this ordeal there could be no deception and no bribing;
the priest had nothing to do with it; the two parties had to fight it
out to the death; it was conducted in grim and solemn earnest; it was
an appeal and a heartfelt prayer to the Lord of Justice. He was called
upon to show the world which was the guilty party. And just as in the
ordeal by water, the consciousness of innocence gave a man assurance,
and thereby enabled him to undertake the fearful task without
confusion or haste, so in the Ordeal by Battle, the consciousness of
innocence sent a man into the field doubly armed.
The mediæval view of the Ordeal by Battle is set forth seriously and
solemnly by Dante (_De Monarchia_, book ii. chap. x.)[19]:—
“Moreover, what is acquired by ordeal is acquired by Right. For
wheresoever human judgment is at fault, either because it is involved
in the darkness of ignorance or because there is not a presiding
judge, then, lest justice should be left deserted, we must have
recourse to Him, who so loved her as Himself to meet her demands
with His own blood in death. Hence the psalm, ‘Just is the Lord, and
deeds of justice hath he loved.’ Now this is what takes place when by
the free assent of either side, not in hatred but in love of justice
the divine judgment is sought through means of the mutual clash of
strength, alike of mind and body. Which clash, since it was first
tried in the single contact of man and man, we call the ordeal.
But we must ever take heed that like as, when it is a question of war,
all means should first be tried in the way of award, and only in the
last resort should the way of battle be tried (as Tully and Vegetius
agree in saying, the one in _Re militari_, the other in the _De
Officiis_), and like as in medical treatment, everything else should
be tried before steel and fire, and they only in the last resort;
so when every other way of finding judgment in a dispute has been
exhausted, we are to recur in the last resort to this remedy, forced
by a kind of compulsion of justice.
There are then two formal characteristics of the ordeal: one is that
which has just now been spoken of; the other the one which was touched
upon above, to wit, that the contenders or champions should enter the
palæstra, not in hate or love, but in sole zeal for justice, with
common consent. And therefore Tully said well in dealing with this
matter, but wars, the aim of which is the crown of Empire, should be
waged less bitterly.
But if the formal characteristics of the ordeal are preserved (else
were it no ordeal) are not they who have gathered together by common
consent, under compulsion of justice and in zeal for her, gathered
together in the name of God? And if so, is not God in their midst,
since He himself promises as much in the Evangel? And if God is
present, is it not impious to think that justice may succumb?—justice
whom He so loves as is forenoted above! And if justice cannot succumb
in the ordeal is not that which is acquired by ordeal acquired by
Right?”
A Function, or an Act of Worship, undertaken and carried out in this
spirit, cannot be regarded otherwise than most seriously. Let us turn
to the actual manner in which the Ordeal by Battle was conducted.
The accused began by denying the whole accusation word by word. He then
offered to prove his innocence by his body. If the Judge accepted the
offer and decided that the duel should take place, he made the parties
exchange gloves. They then had to find pledges that they would appear
on the day of battle. Fines were paid to the King for permission to
fight, for recreancy on failure to appear, for refusing to fight, for
not holding the ordeal properly, or as a bribe to allow a fight.
For the following rules in the preparation of the ground, I am indebted
to the learned pen of my friend Prof. Skeat, whose Notes to his
_Chaucer_ and his _Piers Plowman_ are a treasure-house of learning:—
“The King shall find the field to fight in, and the lists shall be
made and devised by the constable; and it is to be observed, that the
list must be 60 paces long and 40 paces broad, set up in good order,
and the ground within hard, stable, and level, without any great
stones or other impediments; also, that the lists must be made with
one door to the east, and another to the west; and strongly barred
about with good bars 7 feet high or more, so that a horse may not be
able to leap over them.”
It appears that there were an immense number of ordeals by battle;
indeed, in such an age, when every man was a soldier, one can very
well understand that this method would seem to an innocent man far
superior to any form of trial. In one year of Henry the Second’s reign,
there were thirty-four ordeals. Not only to an innocent man, but to
the guilty the ordeal by battle commended itself; many a sturdy rogue,
having little fear of God’s vengeance before his eyes, preferred the
chance of battle to the certainty of the gallows; so much was this the
case that criminals were sometimes pardoned on condition of fighting
so many battles successfully and ridding the country of so many
malefactors. The ordeal by battle brought into existence, as might have
been expected, a kind of gladiator, the champion or hired fighter, who
risked his neck with every fight.
[Illustration: BOSS FROM THE RUINS OF THE EAST CLOISTER OF ST.
BARTHOLOMEW’S PRIORY]
These are the rules for the arming of a knight (_Arch. Journal_, iv.):—
“How a man shalle be armyd at his ese, when he schal fighte on foote.
He schal have noo schurte up-on him, but a dowbelet of Fustean lynyd
with satene, cutte fulle of hoolis; the dowbelet must be strongeli
bounden there the poyntis muste be sette aboute the greet of the
arme, and the beste before and behynde: and the gussetis of mayle
muste be sowid unto the dowbelet in the bought of the arme, and undir
the arme: the armynge poyntis muste be made of fyne twyne, suche as
men make stryngis for crossebowes, and they muste be trussid smalle,
and poyntid as poyntis. Also they muste be waxid with cordeweneris
coode and than they wolle neythir recche nor breke. Also a payre
hosyne of stamyn sengille, and a peyre of shorte bulwerkis of thynne
blanket to put aboute his kneys, for chawfynge of his lighernes. Also
a payre of shone of thikke cordewene, and they muste be frette with
smal whipcorde; thre knottis up-on a corde; and thre coordis muste
be faste sowid un-to the hele of the shoo, and fyve cordis in the
myddille of the soole of the same shoo: and that ther be betwene the
frettis of the heele and the frettis of the myddille of the shoo the
space of thre fyngris.
Two arme a man: Firste, ye muste sette on Sabatones and tye hem upon
the shoo with smale poyntis that wol breke. And then griffus, and then
quisses, and then the breche of mayle. And then touletis. And then
brest. And then vambras. And then rerebras. And then glovys. And then
hange his daggere upon his right side. And then his shorte swerde
upon the lyfte side in a rounde rynge, alle nakid, to pulle it oute
lightli. And then putte his cote upon his bak. And then his basinet
pynnid upon two greet staplis before the breste with a dowbille
bokille behynde upon the bak, for to make the basinet sitte juste.
And then his longe swerde in his hande. And then his pensille in his
hande, peyntid of seynt George, or of oure lady, to blesse him with as
he gooth towarde the felde, and in the felde.
The day that the Pelaunt and the defendant shalle fighte what they
shal have with hem into the felde.
A tente muste be pight in the felde
Also a cheyre
Also a basyne
Also vj loves of bread
Also ij galones of wyne
Also a messe of mete, flesshe or fisshe
Also a borde and a peyre trestelis, to sette his mete and drynke on
Also a borde clothe
Also a knyf for to kutte his mete
Also a cuppe to drynke of
Also a glass with a drynke made
Also a dosen tresses of armynge poyntis
Also a hamyr and pynsones, and a bicorne
Also smale nayles a dosene
Also a long swerde, shorte swerde, and daggar
Also a kerchief to hele the viser of his basinet
Also a penselle to bere in his hande of his avowryre.
In the case of knights, we see that the weapons were those in customary
use, and the duel was a fight with spears and with sword; in the case
of the common sort, it was a very different thing. The gallows stood in
readiness for the vanquished man; the weapons were staves armed at the
end with iron shaped like a ram’s horn. There was a strict rule about
the dress of the combatants, which was to be of white wool; they were
bare-headed and bare-footed; their heads were shaved to avoid giving
a chance for either to catch the other by the hair. In a certain duel
on record the combatants first broke their staves and then fought with
fists and claws and feet and teeth, especially with their teeth; they
tore each other’s garments and the flesh beneath, until at last one got
the other down and gouged out both eyes with his thumbs. After this
there was nothing to be done but to surrender and to be carried to the
gallows there to be hanged.
In the year 1350, just after the visitation of the Black Death,
occurred the famous Ordeal by Battle between John de Viscomte and
Thomas de la Marche. The quarrel arose in the East, where both these
knights were engaged in the war then going on between the Armenians,
the Cypriotes, and the Rhodians on one side, and the Saracens on the
other. John de Viscomte was a cousin of the King of Cyprus and Thomas
de la Marche was a natural son of Philippe de Valois, King of France.
Charges were brought by the former that the said Thomas had been guilty
of perjury, treason, and forgery. The particulars of the accusation do
not concern us. Thomas denied the whole and challenged the accuser to
single combat. It is not exactly clear why the battle was not fought
out in Cyprus or in Rhodes; probably both parties desired to make as
much as possible of the quarrel and of the battle; probably the case
was felt to be one which interested the whole of Christendom; however
that may be, it was agreed to refer the matter to the King of England
as the most worthy and honourable Prince in all Christendom. The
knights, therefore, arrived in England at the beginning of September
1350 with letters from the Kings of Armenia and Cyprus containing a
statement of the case, and inviting the King to allow the Ordeal by
Battle to take place in his presence.
The day was fixed for the 4th of October; the battle to be fought out
in the Lists in his Palace of Westminster. The combatants appeared on
the day appointed, fully armed and on horseback. The King, the Prince
of Wales, and a great concourse of people were present. The oaths were
administered and the battle began. Sir John, leaping from his horse,
determined to fight on foot; in which he was followed by his adversary.
Stow says that they began by running “at the tilte.” The following is
Stow’s account of the fight, with the tragical conclusion:—
“For this therefore were these two worthy souldiers appointed to
fight, which they performed within the listes of the King’s pallace
at Westminster, on Mondaye nexte following after the feaste of Saint
Michael, where Thomas, in declaration of hys innocencie, in that he
was accused of, overcame his enemie, but yet killed him not, for he
could not, because he was not able to wounde hym beyng so armed, with
anye kynde of piercing weapon, except it were in hys face whiche was
bare. For after that they hadde runne at the Tilte, and foughte on
foote, as they were striving together on the grounde, wyth certaine
prickes bothe shorte and sharpe, then called Gadlings, being closed in
the joints of his right gauntlet, the sayde Thomas struck the sayde
John in the face, and sore wounded hym: but on the other side John
hadde no suche kinde of weapon, wherewyth hee myght hurte Thomas face,
and therefore cryed out aloude moste horribly, wherupon by the King’s
commaundemente the combatte was ended, and the victory adiudged to
Thomas, who gave the sayde John being thus overcome, to the Prince
of Wales for a Captive, and offered up his owne armoure to Sainte
George in Sainte Paules Churche at London, wyth great devotion. These
matters beyng thus finished, the Cipres man is manumitted and sette
at libertie as a free man againe. And Thomas thinking boldly to goe
into the presence of his brother the Frenche King, toke hys journey
thyther, and at his coming, founde the sayde King and the nobilitie of
Fraunce greatlye offended, and in indignation against him, for that he
agreed that the combat shoulde be tried before the King of England.
Wherefore Thomas thinking secretly with him selfe howe to winne the
false friendship of his brother, became desirous to shewe that therein
he hadde done well among all other things he greatelye praysed the
nobilitie of Edwarde and his worthy fame spredde over all the worlde,
and also the justice whiche he used in judging, not accepting the
person of the manne of Cipres (yea thoughe he loved the Kyng himselfe
verye well), neyther suffered him to be preferred before me, which
am a French manne, and brother, and friende to thee my Lorde Kyng of
Fraunce, judge over the sayde King Edwarde my adversarie. Also the
Earle of Ewe highly praysed the King of England, for that he hadde
receyved greate comforte and commoditye at hys handes during the tyme
of hys Captivitie in Englande, shewing also howe farre that good Kyng
hadde banished envie and hatred from hys hearte, who at a time of
justyng beyng in the fielde at that exercise, and the Kyng also, was
commaunded by the Kyng himselfe to beare awaye the price and pricke
from them all. These commendations did the French Kyng envie at, and
for indignation, he most wickedlye commaunded the setters forth of
those prayses to be beheaded. And for to colour the matter the better
he fayned that the Earle used too much familiaritie with the Queene
his wife, and that his brother was guiltie of treason against the
King of Fraunce, bycause he committed his cause and the combat to
be tryed by the judgement of the King of England. After he had thus
murdered his brother, he tormented his wife to death by famine, who
was daughter of the noble King of Boheme, lately slaine in battayle by
Geffery.”
On the 7th of June 1380 another Ordeal by Battle was held. It is a very
singular story, and reads as if the guilty man were prevented from
making a good fight by the knowledge of his guilt. Fabyan and Stow both
refer to the incident, but only briefly; Holinshed is the authority
for the fuller details. The accuser, Sir John Annesley, charged Thomas
Catrington, Esquire—Fabyan calls him Carton—with having betrayed and
sold to the French the castle of St. Sauveur in Normandy, of which he
was Governor. He brought the charge before the Court of the Constable
of England sitting at Westminster, concluding by throwing down his
gauntlet and offering to justify the words in open duel. Catrington
denied the charge and accepted the duel.
In the year 1384 another Ordeal of Battle took place in the Palace
Lists, which, like the last, resulted in the death of the unjust.
The case was this:—One Mortileto de Vilenos, a gentleman of Navarre,
brought a charge of treason against John Welsh, an English gentleman,
stating that the treason had been committed while Welsh was Governor of
Cherbourg. They fought it out on St. Andrew’s Day, the result being the
overthrow of Mortileto, who then confessed that his charge was without
foundation, but that it was invented in revenge for the seduction
of his wife by Welsh. He was therefore by the King’s command hanged
immediately, though the Queen, Stow says, made earnest intercession to
have his life saved.
Madox (_Exchequer_, i. 550) furnishes an account of an Ordeal by Battle
with an illustration of the manner of combat:—
“Now we are speaking of Duels, I will lay before the Reader a pretty
remarkable Case of a Duel that was fought in the Reign of K. Henry
III. between Walter Bloweberme, an Approver, and Hamon le Stere;
together with a Draught or figure of the Duel, as it was drawn at that
time. The Case was this. Walter Bloweberme appealed Hamon le Stere of
Robbery: alleging that they were together at Winchester, and there
stole Cloaths and other Goods; whereof Hamon had, for his Share, two
Coats, to wit, one of Irish Cloth, and the other a Party-coat or Cloth
of Abendon and Burell of London: and that he (the said Walter) was in
Fellowship with the said Hamon in the said Robbery, he offereth to
prove by his Body, as the Court shall award. Hamon came and denyed the
whole. And saith that he will defend himself by his Body. Whereupon
it was awarded, that there should be a Duel between them. A Duel was
struck. And Hamon being vanquished in the Combat, was adjudged to be
hanged. It was found that Hamon had no Chattels to forfeit to the
King.”
The account of a dispute about a manor in the Isle of Harty, which was
to have been fought out in Tothill Fields, Westminster, but ended very
tamely, is given at length in _London in the Time of the Tudors_, p.
391.
In the _Collections of a London Citizen_ there are two Ordeals by
Battle, one at least, very grim and horrible:
“And in that same yere (1445) there was an armyrer and hys owne
man fought whythe yn the lystys in Smethefylde the last day of
Januer, ande there the mayster was slayne and dyspoylyde owte of hys
harnys, and lay stylle in the fylde alle that day and that nyght next
folowynge. And thenne aftyrward by the kyngys commaundement, he was
drawyn, hanggyde, and beheddyde, and hys hedde sette on London Brygge,
and the body hynggyng a-bove erthe be-syde the towre....
Also that yere (1455) a thyffe, one Thomas Whytehorne, was take in
the Neweforeste be-syde Beuley and put yn preson at Wynchester. And
when the day of delyverans com he appelyd many trewe men, and by that
mene he kepte hys lyffe in preson. And thoo men that he appelyd were
take and put yn stronge preson and sufferde many grete paynys, and
was that they sholde confesse and a-corde unto hys fals pelyng: and
sum were hongyd that hadde noo frende shyppe and goode, and thoo that
hadde goods gate hyr charters of pardon. And that fals and untrewe
peler hadde of the kynge every day j d. _ob._ And thys he contynuyd
al moste iij yere, and dystryde many men that were sum tym in hys
company. And at the laste he appelyd on that outerly sayde that he
was fals in hys appelynge, and sayde that he wolde preve hyt with hys
hondys, and spende hys lyfe and blode a-pone hys fals body. And thys
mater was fulle dyscretely take and hyrde or bothe pelerrys parte, and
of the defendente ys parte also. And a notabylle man, and the moste
petefullyste juge of al thys londe in syttyng a-pon lyffe and dethe,
toke thys sympylle man that offeryd to fyght with the peler, ande
fulle curtesly informyd hym of alle the condyscyons of the fyghtyng
and duelle of repreffe that shulde be by-twyne a peler of the kyngys,
fals or trewe, in that one party, and by-twyne the defendent, trewe
or false, in that othyr party. For in cas that the peler prevaylyd in
that fyght he shulde he put in preson ayen, but he shulde fare more
better than he dyd be fore tyme of fyghtynge, and be i-lowe of the
kyng ij d. every day as longe as hit plesyd the kyng that he shulde
lyf. For in prosses the kynge may by the lawe put hym to dethe, as
for a man sleer, bycause that hys pelyng, fals or trewe, hathe causyd
many mannys dethys, for a very trewe man schulde with yn xxiiij howrys
make opyn to be knowe alle suche fals hyd thyngys of felony or treson,
yf he be nott consentynge unto the same felowschyppe, undyr payne of
dethe; and thys peler ys in the same cas, wherefore he moste nedys dy
by very reson. Thys ys for the pelers party.
The defendaunte ys party ys, as that nobylle man, Mayster Myhelle
Skyllyng, sayde ande informyde the defender, that he and the peler
moste be clothyd alle in whyte schepys leter, bothe body, hedde,
leggys, fete, face, handys, and alle. Ande that they schulde have
in hyr hondys ij stavys of grene hasche, the barke beyng a-pon, of
iij fote in lenghthe, and at the ende a bat of the same govyn owte
as longe as the more gevythe any gretenys. And in that othye ende a
horne of yryn, i-made lyke unto a rammys horne, as scharpe at the
smalle ende as hit myght be made. And there whype they schulde make
hyr foule batayle a-pone the moste sory and wrecchyd grene that myght
be founde a-bowte the towne, havyng nothyr mete ne drykne whythe, bot
both moste be fastynge. And yf hyr frowarde wepyn ben i-broke they
moste fyght with hyr hondys, fystys, naylys, tethe, fete, and leggys;
hyt ys to schamfulle to reherse alle the condyscyons of thys foule
conflycte. And yf the defendent sle that pelers, fals or trewe, the
defendent shalle be hangyde by-cause of man sleynge, by soo moche
that he hathe i-slayne the kyngys prover, for by hys meny the kynge
hadde mony of suche as were appelyd, and that mony that rosse of hyr
stuffe or goodys that they hadde was put to the kynge almys, and hys
amener dystrybutyd hit unto the pore pepylle. But the kyng may by hys
grace pardon the defendent yf he wylle, ys the defendent be welle
namyd and of competent governaunce in the toune or citte there at
hys abydyng ys; but thys fulle seldon sene by-cause of the vyle and
unmanerly fyghtynge. And by reson they shulde not ben beryd in noo
holy sepulture of Crystyn mannys beryng, but caste owte as a man that
wylfully sleythe hym selfe. Nowe remembyr thys foule batayle, whethey
ye wylle doo hyt or noo. And bothe partys consentyde to fyght, with
alle the condyscyons that long there too. And the fendent desyryd
that the juge wolde sende unto Mylbroke there that he dwellyde, to
inquere of hys gydynge and of conversacyon. And alle the men in that
toune sayde that he was the trewyste laborer in alle that contre, and
the moste gentellyste there with, for he was a fyscher and tayler of
crafte. And the peler desyryd the same, but he was not a-bydynge in no
place passynge a monythe. And in every place there as inquesyscyon was
made men sayde, ‘Hange uppe Thome Whythorne, for he ys to stronge to
fyght with Jamys Fyscher the trewe man whythe an yryn rammys horne.’
And thys causyd the juge to have pytte a-pon the defendent,
The maner of fyughtynge of thes ij poore
wrecchys by-syde Wynchester.
The peler in hys a-rayment ande parelle whythe hys wepyn come owte
of the Este syde, and the defendent owte of the Sowthe-Weste syde
in hys aparayle, with hys wepyn, fulle sore wepynge, and a payre of
bedys in hys hond; and he knelyd down a-pone the erthe towarde the
Este and cryde God marcy and alle the worlde, and prayde every man
of forgevenys, and every man there beyng present prayde for hym. And
the fals peler callyde and sayd ‘thou fals trayter! why arte thou soo
longe in fals bytter be-leve?’ And thenne the defendent rosse upe and
hym and sayde, ‘My quarelle ys as faythefulle and alle soo trewe as
my by-lyve, and in that quarelle I wylle fyght,’ and with the same
worde smote at the peler that hys wepyn breke; and thenne the peler
smote a stroke to the defendent, but the offycers were redy that he
shulde smyte no more, and they toke a-way hys wepyn fro hym. And thenn
they fought to gederys with hyr fystys long tyme and restyd hem, ande
fought agayne, and thenn restyd agayne; and thenn they wente togedyr
by the neckys. And then they bothe with hyr tethe, that the lethyr of
clothyng and flesche was alle to rente in many placys of hyr bodys.
And thenn the fals peler caste that meke innocent downe to the grownde
and bote hym by the membrys, that the sely innocent dryde owt. And by
happe more thenne strengythe that innocent recoveryd up on hys kneys
and toke that fals peler by the nose with hys tethe and put hys thombe
in hys yee, that the peler cryde owte and prayde hym of marcy, for
he was fals unto God and unto hym. And thenn the juge commaundyd hem
to cesse and hyr bothe hyr talys; and the peler sayde that he hadde
accusyd hym wrongefully and xviij men, and be-sought God of marcy and
of forgevenys. And thenn he was confessyd ande hanggyd, of whos soule
God have marcy. Amen.
As for the defendent was pardonyd of hys lyfe, leme, and goodys, and
went home; and he become an hermyts and with schorte tyme dyed.”
CHAPTER VII
SANCTUARY
It is strange that an institution which played a large part in the
social scheme of the Middle Ages should have fallen so completely into
decay as to be absolutely forgotten by the people, so that there is not
even a legend or a tradition of it left. The memory of Sanctuary is as
clean lost and forgotten as that of Frank Pledge. Yet, three hundred
years ago, the constant thought of debtor or malefactor was, that,
if the worst came to the worst, he could fly to St. Martin’s or to
Westminster and so escape the clink of Ludgate, or the gaol of Newgate.
Even the murderer always had it in mind when justice was in pursuit
of him, that there was the refuge of Sanctuary, if only he might win
there, where he could be received, and could abide in safety.
Like every other ecclesiastical foundation, the right of Sanctuary was
originally a beneficent and wise institution, designed by the Church
for the protection of the weak, and the prevention of revenge, wild
justice, violence and oppression. If a man, in those days of swift
wrath and ready hand, should kill another in the madness of a moment;
if by accident he should wound or maim another; if by the breaking of
any law he should incur the penalties of justice; if by any action he
should incur the hostility of a stronger man; if by some of the many
changes and chances of fortune he should lose his worldly goods and
fall into debt or bankruptcy, and so become liable to imprisonment; if
he had cause to dread the displeasure of king, baron, or bishop, in
all these cases the right of Sanctuary was open to him. Once on the
frith-stool, once clinging to the horns of the altar, he was as safe
as an Israelite within the walls of a City of Refuge: the mighty hand
of the Church was over him; his enemies could not touch him on pain of
excommunication.
In theory every church was a sanctuary; but it was easy to blockade a
church so that the refugee could be starved into submission. If a felon
took refuge in a church, it was the duty of the neighbours to watch
him, until he had either surrendered, or, in presence of the proper
officer, had abjured the realm. If he was allowed to escape, the parish
or the Ward was fined a hundred shillings, to be paid to the King. The
only real safety for a fugitive from justice or revenge was in those
abbeys and places which possessed special charters and immunities.
Foremost among these were the Sanctuaries of Westminster and St.
Martin’s-le-Grand. Outside London, the principal sanctuaries appear
to have been Beverley, Hexham, Durham, and Beaulieu. But every abbey,
like every church, possessed its sanctuary as a part of its privileges.
That of Westminster was, if not founded, defined and regulated by
Edward the Confessor; that of St. Martin’s, the existence of which was
always a scandal and an offence to the City of London, was regulated by
half a dozen charters of as many kings. Its refugees were principally
bankrupts, debtors, and common thieves; these as offenders against
property were especially hated by a trading community.
The privilege of sanctuary was beautiful in theory. “Come to me,” said
the Church, “I will keep thee in safety from the hand of violence and
the arm of the law; I will give thee lodging and food; my doors shall
be always open to thee, day and night; I will lead thee to repentance.
Come, and in safety sit down and meditate on the sins which brought
thee hither.”
[Illustration: SANCTUARY KNOCKER, DURHAM CATHEDRAL]
The invitation was extended to all, but with certain reservations. Nor
was it merely a formal invitation; sanctuary was actually sought by
multitudes, but traitors, Jews, infidels, and those who had committed
sacrilege, were not received. In Durham Cathedral two men slept every
night in the Galilee Chapel to admit any fugitive who might ring the
bell or lift the knocker. Nay, sanctuary was actually converted into a
city of refuge by the setting apart of a measured space, the whole of
which was to be considered sanctuary. At Hexham, where four roads met
in the middle of the town, a cross was set up on every one of the roads
to show where sanctuary began. At Ripon and at Beverley a circle with a
radius of a mile was the limit of sanctuary. At St. Martin’s-le-Grand
the precinct was accurately laid down, and jealously defended. It
included many streets, and the area is now almost entirely covered by
the buildings of the General Post Office. At Westminster the whole
precinct of the Abbey, church, monastery buildings, close, cloisters,
and gardens were sacred ground.
In _Archæologia_ (xvii. p. 198) is given the oath of sanctuary. I
extract the whole passage:—
“Among the Harleian Manuscripts in the British Museum is a thin
folio volume written upon vellum marked No. 4292, and containing
the Register of Persons who sought sanctuary for different crimes
at St. John of Beverley in Yorkshire, in the reigns of King Edward
the Fourth, King Henry the Seventh, and King Henry the Eighth. The
bookbinder, by whom it appears to have been rebound of later years,
seems to have mixed some of the leaves, or, at least, to have put the
entries of King Edward the Fourth’s time after some of those of King
Henry the Seventh’s.
The greater part of the manuscript is of course confined to a list of
names and crimes; but on the reverse of folio 17 is a copy of the oath
taken by those who sought the peace of the place. I do not remember to
have met with a sanctuary oath elsewhere. The bailiff of the town, by
whom the oath was administered, is directed to inquire of the refugee
‘what man he killed, and wher with, and both ther names: and than gar
hym lay his hand uppon the book, sayng on this wyse.
[Illustration:
_Catharine W. B. Ward._
THE MARTYRDOM OF ST. THOMAS
From a Copy, preserved in Canterbury Cathedral, of the almost
obliterated Painting at the head of the Tomb of Henry IV.]
Sir tak hede on your oth. Ye shal be trew and feythful to my lord
archbishop of York, lord off this towne, to the provest of thessame,
to the chanons of this chirch, and all othir ministers’ thereof.
Also ye shall bere gude hert to the baillie and xii. governars of this
town, to all burges’ and comyners of thessame.
Also ye shall bere no poynted wapen, dagger, knyfe, ne none other
wapen ayenst the kyngs pece.
Also ye shal be redy at all your power if ther be any debate or stryf
or other sothan case of fyre within the town to help to s’cess it.
Also ye shal be redy at the obite of Kyng Adelstan at the Dirige and
the Messe at such tyme as it is done at the warnyng of the belman of
the town, and do your dewte in ryngyng, and for to offer at the messe
on the morne, so help you god and thies holy Evangelists.
And then gar hym kysse the Book.’”
The history of St. Martin’s-le-Grand is the history of a stalwart
resistance and defence of the rights of sanctuary against the attacks
of the citizens and others. For in a lawless age no rights, no
privileges, no laws are obeyed. In Wat Tyler’s rebellion his followers
paid no respect to sanctuary; they dragged from the very altars the
tax-collectors who had hurried thither to be out of danger. Twenty
years later the City itself protested against the abuses caused
by the immunities of the sanctuary. But as yet the place was too
strongly fortified by charters and papal bulls for any change to be
effected. The King, on the other hand, took the line that it was by the
negligence of the City magistrates that so many crimes were committed,
and that so many claimants of sanctuary existed.
There is a story of sanctuary at St. Paul’s told by Riley (_Mem._ p.
24). It was in the 17th year of King Edward the First, and on the Day
of St. George, that one Walter Bacon, a chaplain, or Parish Priest,
took sanctuary in the Cathedral. Thither came, in consequence, the
King’s Coroner, William le Mazeliner, the warden of the City (it was
during the suspension of the Mayor’s office), John le Breton, Sir
Baroncin, John de Banquelle, and other trustworthy persons. Then the
Coroner, in the presence of the assembled company, demanded of the man
for what reason he had taken sanctuary. Whereupon the man replied that
it was because he had stolen sixteen silver dishes belonging to Sir
Baroncin. The dishes being restored, the Sheriff was instructed to take
charge of them in a sealed packet; and two days after the packet was
opened by the Sheriff in presence of the Coroner, and the dishes were
given back to the said Baroncin. What became of the chaplain is not
stated.
Many examples have been preserved of those who sought safety within
those walls. There is the case of one Henry who stole a signet ring, a
pyx for consecrated wafers; had it ever been used he would have been
debarred sanctuary for sacrilege; he also stole some money and other
things. He took sanctuary, then he changed his mind and fled, leaving
his stolen property behind him. The Dean’s officers seized it as a
“waif” left within the soke or franchise of the College. There is,
again, the case of Henry Ciprian, Canon of Waltham. He, for certain
offences, took refuge at St. Martin’s. It was in the year 1430, the
9th of King Henry the Sixth. The Mayor and Sheriffs thereupon seized
him and dragged him out. The Dean and Canons brought the case before
the King, who ordered Ciprian to be restored to sanctuary. But the
smouldering hostility of the City continued and increased. The Alderman
of Aldersgate, Matthew Philip, on the imposition of a certain tax,
called upon the Dean of St. Martin’s for his share, alleging that it
was not a privileged place; and actually levied the money by distress.
The King ordered it to be restored.
In the same year occurred the famous case of St. Martin’s-le-Grand,
which, though it was decided against the City, strengthened enormously
the case against sanctuary.
A certain soldier named Knight lay in prison at Newgate. His friends
trumped up a case of debt against him, to answer to which he had to
be taken to the Guildhall; therefore he passed the south side of St.
Martin’s. Five of his friends lay in ambush in Panyer Alley, and as
he passed they dragged him from the officers, and so into sanctuary,
where they all remained. Surely this was an abuse of the privilege.
The City thought so, evidently. The Sheriffs, Philip Malpas and Robert
Marshall, with the Alderman of the Ward, the City Chamberlain, and a
great multitude of people, crowded into St. Martin’s demanding the
prisoners, whom the Canon refused to surrender. They therefore seized
them by force, chained and manacled them, stripped them to their
shirts, and led them off to Newgate. Evidently it was a case which
excited the greatest indignation. The King, on receiving the complaint
of the Dean, ordered the release of the prisoners by letters taken from
Windsor to the Tower by Lord Huntingdon. The Mayor refused to open the
letters. He said that the Tower was a privileged place outside his
jurisdiction, and that he could perform no official act in it, not even
the opening of a letter addressed to himself as Mayor. Lord Huntingdon
then produced the King’s writ, which was received and considered in the
Church of Allhallows Barking. Here, with the assistance of the City
clerk, John Carpenter, they found some legal objection, which they
conveyed to the King.
The matter, however, was heard in the Star Chamber. The case of the
Dean was based, of course, on the Charters of the House, and on
the antiquity of the privileges claimed. The case of the Sheriffs,
where it did not depend upon a legal quibble, rested on the enormous
inconvenience and the many mischiefs caused by the sanctuary. Thus one
Stody deliberately murdered a woman, took refuge in the sanctuary, and
succeeded in escaping; John Frowe, having a grudge against one Robert
Dodmerton, dogged him till he was close to the gate of sanctuary,
where he stabbed him in the neck, so that he died, when the murderer
calmly took refuge in the sanctuary. One Lullay, a Cambridge man, did
exactly the same thing in the same place. It was also argued that
certain criminals in the reign of Henry the Fifth had been taken from
sanctuary, that a lane of the precinct in which criminals assembled had
been stopped by order of the King, and that church, precinct, and lane
were all portions of the City itself. These arguments prevailed not.
The Sheriffs had to give up the prisoners.
Another mischief caused by this privilege was the fabrication of
counterfeit plate and jewels which was established there. The
Goldsmiths’ Company, who had the right to examine all goldsmiths’ shops
in the City, demanded admission to St. Martin’s Precinct in order to
examine the workshops there. The Dean refused permission as a right,
but invited them to come in and inspect the work. He himself went with
them, and caused all bad work to be destroyed. Edward the Fourth, in a
statute against fraudulent goldsmiths’ work, excepted the Precinct from
its operation. It is interesting to note that makers of counterfeit
plate and jewels continued in their old quarters long after the
Dissolution. Thus Butler says:—
“’Tis not those paltry counterfeits
French stones which in our eyes you set,
But our right diamonds that inspire,
And set your am’rous hearts on fire.
Nor can those false St. Martin’s beads,
Which on our lips you place for reds,
And make us wear like Indian dames,
All fuel to your scorching flames,
But those, true rubies of the rock
Which in the cabinets we lock.”
Perhaps the strength of St. Martin’s was best shown in the case of
William Cayens. He was one of Jack Cade’s associates, and on the
dispersion of the rebels he took sanctuary in St. Martin’s. The King
demanded him as a traitor. The Dean took with him all his bulls and
charters and pleaded the case. In the end he won it. The traitor was to
remain, but to be prevented from committing any more treason. Some time
after, Cayens received the King’s pardon, and was even admitted to his
favour.
When the Civil Wars broke out one Oldehall, chamberlain to the Duke
of York, was ordered by the King’s advisers not to leave the City of
London. He fled to sanctuary, was dragged out, and was ordered to be
taken back again. Up to this point the Dean had proved too strong for
the City. But in the year 1455 the sanctuary men presumed so much upon
their security that they formed into companies and attacked and robbed
the citizens. Thereupon the Mayor and Sheriffs broke into Sanctuary
and seized the ringleaders. The Dean complained, the King sent for the
Mayor and his officers, but the time was not one in which the City
could be made hostile, and the prisoners were not restored.
Again, in the year following, the sanctuary men took part in an attack
upon the Italian merchants. The complaints were now so general and
so loud that some restriction had to be imposed on the privilege.
Articles were drawn up for the better regulation of the Sanctuary.
They are like those already quoted from the Archives of Beverley. Thus
(1) every person on entering must declare the cause of his seeking
refuge. (2) No one is to carry any weapon within the Precinct. (3) That
any “erraunt and open thiefe, robber, murderer and felon noised by
the common fame of the people” shall find security for good behaviour
both in sanctuary and for a quarter of a year afterwards, and that he
be kept in ward until he has found that security. But he may depart
if he pleases. (4) The gates to be shut at certain hours. (5) Stolen
goods not to be taken into sanctuary. (6) If any acts of robbery or
violence be committed by a sanctuary man he is to be placed in prison
and kept there. But he may depart if he will (of course to find the
Sheriff’s officer waiting for him). (7) Forgers, makers of counterfeit
goods, pickers of locks, etc., not to be allowed in sanctuary, (8)
Strumpets and all immoral persons to be kept in prison until they amend
or depart. (9) Gambling—“plays at hazard, the dice, the guell, the
kayelles, the cloysh”—to be forbidden in sanctuary. (10) Sundays and
holy days to be kept, and (11) every person admitted to take oath that
he will obey these rules.
[Illustration: BRASSES IN ST. BARTHOLOMEW THE LESS, SMITHFIELD]
Already, on more than one occasion, the difference between mediæval
laws and mediæval practice has been remarked. What, for instance,
could be better than these ordinances? Everything seems to be provided
for, merciful refuge for the criminal, prison for those who commit
new crimes, the practice of dishonest trades forbidden, the morality
of the sanctuary protected, the place to be a House of Religion and
Repentance, and not a refuge and lurking place for thieves and rogues.
What happened? That the sanctuary went on just as before. There was,
no doubt, some little stir at the outset: the Canons ordered their
servants to exercise diligence in the maintenance of these laws: we
have seen the Dean going round with the Goldsmiths’ officer; perhaps
he went round with his own officers, and questioned the refugees,
admonished them all, both men and women, and then departed. The decay
of all the Monastic and Ecclesiastical foundations was everywhere
partly due to the fact that, while the Rule remained, that part of
it which demanded personal service was handed over to servants and
inferior officers. The criminal who ran into the sanctuary was received
by a servant, not by the Canons: he was lodged by a servant, not
by the Canons; then, the food provided being humble in quality and
insufficient in quantity, the refugee carried on his trade in order
to get more food; probably the custom grew up, as it had grown up in
the prisons of Newgate and Ludgate, of paying fees to the sanctuary
officers; in return for those fees everything was permitted. Men, who
lived by robbery and who were well known to be robbers; women who lived
by procuring and by prostitution; sharpers, forgers, fabricators of
false goods, fraudulent bankrupts, receivers of stolen goods; thieves
actually took sanctuary with their stolen goods in their hands; all
these people lived in security and peace: they escaped the pillory, the
stocks, the agony of the whipping-post, the noisome prison, and the
gallows. The City did well to protest without ceasing against the abuse
of the Sanctuary.
During the civil wars St. Martin’s proved a veritable Haven of Refuge
to many, including the Countess of Oxford, Morton, Bishop of Ely, and
other prelates, as well as both Lords and Ladies. In St. Martin’s lived
and died—“rotted away piecemeal”—Miles Forrest, one of the murderers
of the young Princes. A great change was made in St. Martin’s when the
College was transferred by Henry the Seventh to the Abbey of St. Peter,
Westminster. The Abbot became Dean of St. Martin’s; another seal was
made; the duties of the Canons were performed by Vicars.
In the year 1548 all chantries, free chapels, and brotherhoods were
suppressed, St. Martin’s among them. The splendid church was pulled
down; the site was speedily built over by tenements and shops and
taverns. But superstition and custom reserved until a much later
time some of the privileges of sanctuary both at St. Martin’s and at
Westminster.
The Chronicle of the west end sanctuary is somewhat nobler.
It must be understood that the whole Precinct of the Abbey and not
the Church only was the sanctuary, of which the more sacred part, of
course, was the Church. But the name of sanctuary was especially given
to a gloomy square pile built of ragstone, about seventy-five feet
square and about sixty feet high. Outside was a round tower no higher
than the building itself, which contained a stair communicating with
the upper storey. There were two storeys, each of which was a chapel,
the lower one being especially dark and gloomy. On the roof it appears
there were sometimes erected small houses for the accommodation of
refugees.
By a very remarkable omission, this interesting building is not noticed
by Stow or by any later writer. Stukeley first observed it, and
sketched and measured it in the year 1750 when they were taking it down.
Here is a glimpse (1556) of a sanctuary procession:—
“The vi. day of December the Abbot of Westminster went a procession
with his convent: before him went all the sanctuary men with crosse
keys [upon their garments] and after went iij. for murder: one, the
Lord Dacre’s sone, of the Northe, was wypyd (whipped) with a shett
abowt him for kyllyng of a man, master West sqwyre dwellyng besyd ...
and anodur theyff that dyd long to one of master comtroller ... dyd
kyll Recherd Eggyllston the comtroller’s tayller, and [killed him in]
the Long Acurs, the bak-syd Charyng-crosse: and a boye [that] kyld a
byge boye that sold papers and pryntyd bokes [with] horlyng of a stone
and yt hym under the ere in Westmynster Hall: the boy was one of the
chylderyn what was [at the] sckoll ther in the abbey: the boy was a
hossear sune [hosier’s son] a-boyff London-stone.”
[Illustration: _Exterior View_
_Lower Church_
_Upper Church_
_Original drawing made by Dr. Stukeley._
THE SANCTUARY CHURCH AT WESTMINSTER
From Allen’s _History of London_.]
The whipping of Lord Dacre’s son, wrapped in a white sheet, for murder,
must have been edifying. Sanctuary, therefore, was not wholly free from
pains and penalties. Two months later, another man in sanctuary was
whipped “before the cross” for murder.
Not always, however, were the rights of sanctuary respected. That Wat
Tyler should respect them was hardly to be expected. Therefore we
read without surprise how he dragged the Marshal of the Marshalsea
from one of the pillars of the Confessor’s shrine, to which, as the
holiest place in the church, he was clinging. But the murder of the
knight Hawke in the year 1398 is a very remarkable illustration of
the violence and ungovernable temper into which the men of that time
could fall. There were two knights named Hawke and Shackle. In the
Spanish wars of the Black Prince they had between them effected the
valuable capture of a Spanish noble. He exchanged his son, a youth,
for himself, a method of hostage not uncommon, and went home, leaving
the two Englishmen expectant of a lordly ransom. Then, however, John
of Gaunt, who claimed the throne of Spain, demanded the delivery
of the young Spaniard to himself. This was refused. Thereupon he
threatened imprisonment, so that the knights fled and took sanctuary at
Westminster, accompanied by the captive disguised as a page or valet.
It would seem as if they were pursued on their flight. At least what
follows does not look like a deed done in cold blood. The two knights
fled into the church as the safest part of the sanctuary. Thither they
were followed by Alan Bloxhall, Constable of the Tower, Sir Ralph
Ferrers, and a company of fifty men. Shackle, for his part, escaped
with the page—probably into the cloisters, where he could easily be
conveyed to a place of safety. But Hawke remained in the church and
ran round the choir followed by his enemies. This took place actually
during the celebration of High Mass. At last the wretched man fell
covered with wounds in front of the Prior’s stall, that is, within
the choir. After this, the Prior closed the church for four months,
and caused the violators of the sanctuary to be excommunicated, as
well as fining them £200 apiece—equal to nearly £3000 of our money. If
sanctuary, if sacrilege meant anything at all, the abbot was bound to
make as much as he could of the “factum horribile.” The unfortunate
Hawke was buried in the south transept.
But there were other violations of sanctuary, as when Sir Robert
Tresilian, Lord Chief Justice, was dragged out from the refuge he had
sought; and when the Duke of Exeter was treated likewise: on the other
hand, Henry the Seventh showed his wisdom in respecting sanctuary when
Perkin Warbeck took shelter there.
And sanctuary was, as a rule, respected. When Eleanor Cobham, Duchess
of Gloucester, went into sanctuary at Westminster, she was unmolested,
and might have stayed there all her life had she chosen. Elizabeth
Woodville gave birth to her elder boy, “forsaken by her friends and
in great penury,” yet in safe keeping. Here she placed the child in
his father’s arms on his return. A second time she fled thither when
that boy, thirteen years of age, was in the hands of her enemy and
in the Tower. She took with her the younger boy, but we all know what
happened. Sanctuary was broken. The Archbishops gave their consent
to the sacrilege even though they knew, everybody must have known,
that the boys would be murdered one after the other. It was the lot
of every prince or possible heir to the throne in those times to be
murdered or to be slain in battle. Henry the Sixth, Prince Edward,
the Duke of York, the Duke of Clarence, the Duke of Exeter, are all
examples instructive enough. Yet the Archbishops yielded. Why? I think
it is clear that they dreaded above all things a boy King: above all
things they wanted repose for the distracted land. It was a case
of choosing between the lives of two innocent boys, or fresh wars,
new distractions, which? The violation of sanctuary in this case is
remarkable for the opportunity it gave the Duke of Buckingham to attack
the whole system of sanctuary.
“I dare well avow it, weigh the good that they do with the hurt that
cometh of them, and ye shall find it much better to lack both than to
have both. And this I say, although they were not abused as they now
be, and so long have been, that I fear me they will ever be, while
men be afraid to set their hands to the amendment: as though God and
St. Peter were the patrons of ungracious living. Now unthrifts riot
and run in debt upon the boldness of these places: yea, and rich men
run thither with poor men’s goods. There they build, there they spend
and bid their creditors go whistle for them. Men’s wives run thither
with their husbands’ plate, and say they dare not abide with their
husbands for beating. Thieves bring thither their stolen goods, and
there live thereon. There devise they new robberies nightly to steal
out, they rob, and reave, and kill, and come in again as though those
places gave them not only a safeguard for the harm they have done, but
a licence also to do more mischief.”
It must not be forgotten that Skelton the poet escaped the wrath of
Wolsey by taking refuge in the Westminster Sanctuary, where he lived in
safety and died unmolested.
In the _Italian Relations of England_ (Camden Society), probably
written at the end of the fifteenth century, the author bears testimony
of the same kind to the evils of sanctuary. Apparently the institution
did not exist in Italy.
“The clergy are they who have the supreme sway over the country, both
in peace and war. Amongst other things, they have provided that a
number of sacred places in the kingdom should serve for the refuge and
escape of all delinquents: and no one, were he a traitor to the crown,
or had he practised against the king’s own person, can be taken out
of these by force. And a villain of this kind, who, for some great
excess that he has committed, has been obliged to take refuge in one
of these sacred places, often goes out of it to brawl in the public
streets, and then, returning to it, escapes with impunity for every
fresh offence he may have been guilty of. This is no detriment to the
purses of the priests, nor to the other perpetual sanctuaries: but
every church is a sanctuary for 40 days: and, if a thief or a murderer
who has taken refuge in one cannot leave it in safety during these 40
days, he gives notice that he wishes to leave England. In which case,
being stripped to the shirt by the chief magistrate of the place,
and a crucifix placed in his hand, he is conducted along the road to
the sea, where, if he finds a passage, he may go with a ‘God speed
you!’ But if he should not find one, he walks into the sea up to the
throat, and three times asks for a passage: and this is repeated till
a ship appears, which comes for him, and so he departs in safety. It
is not unamusing to hear, how the women and children lament over the
misfortune of these exiles, asking ‘how they can live so destitute out
of England’: adding, moreover, that ‘they had better have died than go
out of the world,’ as if England were the whole world!”
Henry the Seventh in 1483 procured a bull from Pope Innocent the
Eighth, which allowed of malefactors being taken out of sanctuary when
it was proved that they had left sanctuary in order to commit some
mischief. And that if persons suspected of high treason took refuge
it should be permitted to the King to station guards at the gates and
elsewhere to keep them from going out. Later, in the year 1504, Henry
the Seventh procured another bull permitting him to take out persons
suspected of high treason. This bull would seem to allow the actual
destruction of sanctuary.
The procedure in the claim of sanctuary was as follows (the statute
being put up in the Custom Hall of the Cinque Ports, Dover), (_Italian
Relations_):—
“And when any shall flee into the church or churchyard for felony,
claiming thereof the privilege for any action of his life, the head
officer of the same liberty where the said church or churchyard is,
with his fellow jurats or commoners of the same liberty, shall come
to him and shall ask him the cause of being there, and if he will not
confess felony immediately, it shall be entered in record, and his
goods and chattels shall be forfeited, and he shall tarry there forty
days, or before, if he will, he shall make his abjuration in form
following before the head officer, who shall assign to him the port of
his passage: and after his abjuration there shall be delivered unto
him by the head officer, or his assignees, a cross, and proclamation
shall be made that while he be going by the highway towards the
port to him assigned, he shall go in the king’s peace, and that no
man shall grieve him in so doing, on pain to forfeit his goods and
chattels. And the said felon shall lay his right hand on the book, and
swear this:—‘You hear, Mr. Coroner, that I ... a thief, have stolen
such a thing, or have killed such a woman, or man, or a child, and
am the king’s felon, and for that I have done many evil deeds and
felonys in this same his land, I do abjure and forswear the lands of
the kings of England, and that I shall haste myself to the port of
... which you have given or assigned me: and that I shall not go out
of the highway, and if I do, I will that I shall be taken as a thief,
and the king’s felon, and at the same place I shall tarry but one ebb
and flood, if I may have passage: and if I cannot have passage in the
same place, I shall go every day into the sea to my knees and above,
crying, Passage, for the love of God, and King ... his sake: and if
I may not within forty days together, I shall get me again into the
church, as the king’s felon. So help me God and by this book according
to your judgment.’ And if a clerk flying to the church for felony,
affirming himself to be a clerk, he shall not abjure the realm, but
yielding himself to the laws of the realm, shall enjoy the liberties
of the church, and shall be delivered to the ordinary, to be kept safe
to the convict prison, according to the laudable custom of the realm
of England.”
CHAPTER VIII
MIRACLE AND MYSTERY PLAYS
I have elsewhere spoken of the singular fact that no remains of a
Roman theatre or amphitheatre have been found in London, and I have
ventured to put forward a theory as to the site of one or both. One
cannot, indeed, understand how there could be a theatre at Rutupiæ,
or at Bath, and none at London. It is true that Augusta was, for the
greater part of her Roman existence, a Christian City; but so was
Bath; it is also true that the Church condemned the Theatre. But these
facts did not destroy the Theatre. St. Augustine tells us how much
he was attracted by the drama—_rapiunt me spectacula theatrica_. The
total destruction of the Roman theatre in the country with the stage
machinery and the stage traditions, we may be quite sure, was effected,
not by the thunders of the Church, but by the coming of the Angles
and the Saxons, and by the Desolation of Augusta. The drama had to
begin again later on. As the mimetic instinct always survives every
attempt at repression, the drama in some form was sure to revive. It
began again in two forms: first, in the Church, the very place whence
it had been denounced, and in the entertainments given by wandering
mummers, minstrels, dancers, and tumblers. The wandering folk, the
show folk, the _ribauds_, the people who cannot work, the men and
women who can only earn their bread by making music and merriment,
by telling stories, singing songs, performing tricks, dancing,
turning somersaults, and pandering to the ever-present desire for
pleasure,—these people cannot be suppressed; and they kept alive the
art of acting. In England they flourished exceedingly in quiet times.
What sort of rude play they performed it is not possible to ascertain.
It was, I believe, a rough and ready farce, like that preserved in
Rabelais, where the Farce of the Dumb Woman is presented. The people
want to laugh. What do they mostly laugh at? The discomfiture of some
one in some way. Enter the Dumb Woman—she makes great business with
her broom; she knocks down one man with it and hits another over the
nose; both men complain and suffer pain and indignity. Then the people
laugh. Add music and a tumbling girl; add gestures unseemly and jokes
unfit for repetition. Add, further, anything you please from the modern
role of clown and pantaloon, and we shall understand the entertainment
afforded by the show folk of the eleventh century. I suppose that
they sometimes made fun of the priests—always a tempting subject—one
reason for thinking so is that the more reverend a man wishes to be
thought, the more he lays himself open to ridicule; another reason is
that contemporary writers, as John of Salisbury, condemn actors with
ecclesiastical plainness. They were in request, it would appear, at
marriage feasts, and the nature of their entertainment is indicated
by the order that any priests who were present were to get up and go
away when the players began. These people have left little behind
them, but they maintained the taste for scenic performances, and, no
doubt, they drew away from the plough or the carpenter’s bench many
a lad whose heart yearned for the music and the twinkling feet, the
bright dresses, and the laughing life of these masterless vagabonds
and lawless girls. But in England nothing was written or invented:
it is to the Church and not to the show folk that we owe the modern
drama. And it began with the laudable desire—nay, the necessity—of
making people, in whom the imagination was dull, realise the doctrines
of the Church. The service was in Latin, a language not comprehended
any longer even in Italy; nobody could read; there were no books
for them if they could: preaching, of which there was little before
the Friars came, could not effect much: mural painting was not even
begun: how then were the people to be taught the leading events, the
foundations, in the History of the Christian Faith? Only by some kind
of dramatic representation. Thus, at Christmas-time it was easy—nay,
praiseworthy—to build a stall for oxen in the church; to fit it with
a manger; to invite all the people to see for themselves, as if they
were alive, the Virgin Mother with the Infant Christ, Joseph, the Magi,
the angels, and the shepherds. On Good Friday a great crucifix was set
up and solemnly lowered into the grave. On Easter Day the stone of the
sepulchre was rolled away and our Lord came forth; after Easter He
walked with the pilgrims of Emmaus; He appeared to the disciples. At
Ascension He mounted visibly to Heaven in the sight of all. So also,
He raised Lazarus; He healed the sick; He washed the feet. When the
simple people looked on and saw such miracles who could doubt? Nay,
who could ever forget? “There is the grave, with Lazarus in it—look at
him! The grave-clothes are swathed about him, his face is white, he is
dead, there is even to another sense the unmistakable proof of death.
Here comes the Lord Himself. Tell me not that it is Brother Ambrose—it
is the Lord Himself! Who but the Lord can bring a dead man to life? It
is the Very Christ!” So they went away marvelling. These things were
elementary; but they offered scope for acting, and they offered food
for the imagination. Of course they became more and more realistic. The
priests’ robes were exchanged for suitable dresses; the chorister, who
represented an angel, added wings to his white surplice, and carried a
harp and wore a crown. And the field of the drama widened. It included
at length the whole scheme of Redemption from the Fall of Lucifer to
the Day of Judgment.
[Illustration: NORTH-WEST VIEW OF THE RUINS OF THE BISHOP OF
WINCHESTER’S PALACE, SOUTHWARK]
The procession of the Patron Saint, or any other holy day, and that
of Corpus Christi Day were further used to teach the people in the
dramatic way. The saints marched with the Trade Guilds; they were known
by what they carried. Adam and Eve wore the Tree of Knowledge; John
the Baptist was a herald—everybody at that time knew what was meant by
a herald; Judas followed. Of course he was received with hisses and
groans, but he could not escape observation, because he carried a bag
of gold and was followed by the Devil with the gallows; Christopher
carried Christ; the wise men carried gifts; nothing was forgotten. That
these representations sank deeply into the hearts of the people is
certain, because it is only natural that this should be their effect.
A story is related of a German Prince, the Landgrave Frederic of the
Scarred Cheek, who, after witnessing a play of the Wise and Foolish
Virgins, in which the Virgin Mary herself failed to move her Son to
mercy, cried out, “What sort of thing is Christian faith if Christians
cannot be pardoned even on the intercession of the mother of God and
all the Saints?” And so fell into a religious melancholy such as was
common in later times among Calvinists. But it wants no such story to
make us understand the power of these dramatic performances. At first
they were presented in dumb show; then with the words of the Bible;
lastly, with words specially written for them. The next step was
the transfer of the stage from the nave of the church to the place
outside. This took place when the machinery required was too large for
the little parish church, and when the _dramatis personæ_ were too
numerous for the ecclesiastical staff of the Church. Then the laity
became the actors, speedily the only actors. At the same time, the
Church did not surrender control over the plays: in Rome there was the
Fraternity of the Gonfaler: in Antwerp the Brethren of St. Luke, who
were authorised to perform these plays. In England they were divided
among the Trade Guilds, every one of which had to exhibit some dramatic
scene on the Feast of Corpus Christi. Thus at Coventry the smiths
played the Trial and Crucifixion; the Cappers played the Resurrection
and Descent into Hell; the Shearmen played the Birth of Christ, the
Adoration of the Magi, the Flight into Egypt and the Massacre of the
Innocents. In London the Company of Parish Clerks took a prominent
part, one of their performances being recorded by Stow as lasting for
three days. This was at the Skinners’ Well, Smithfield, in the year
1391. Another performance is also mentioned which took place in 1409,
and lasted for eight days. The civic procession of Corpus Christi,
which was attended by Mayor, Sheriffs, and Aldermen, with all the City
officers, together with the City clergy, and was adorned by pageants
and figures and groups, was entrusted to the Skinners’ Company. I have
not been able to discover other London companies entrusted with the
representation of these plays. The stage was of considerable area, and
contained two “rooms,” the upper room for heaven and the lower for
earth; or the upper “room” was earth and the lower was hell. Sometimes
there were three “rooms.” The play was introduced by a prologue:
each player was presented by name: when not acting the players stood
aside and were supposed to be invisible. The realism was startling.
When Judas was hanged he carried to the gallows the entrails of some
animal, which, when he cast himself off, he let fall. At the same
time the devil, who was behind him on the gallows, cut the rope, and
they both fell down into hell together. There was no shrinking from
the representation of a birth upon the stage: saints in torture made
jokes; Solomon quarrelled with one of his wives and drank a mug of
beer; the devil carried off a soul in a wheelbarrow; at the scene of
the Resurrection the gardener made fun over the effects of his herbs;
the pedlar wanted to sell his wares to the women weeping over the
grave; the mouth of hell vomited flames; Adam and Eve appeared as they
were before the Fall; it is as if the Church wanted to make the event
more real by connecting it with the actual life, the unmistakable
life of men and women. From Church to Market-place was one step; from
the mystery to the morality is another step; the last step of all was
from the morality, an insipid performance, to the real comedy of human
life, and even this had to make its way by means of the drama founded
on the life of the saint. How great a step to discover that in every
man there was a possible drama equal in interest to the life of any
saint or martyr! There is very little positive information about the
early drama in London. Yet we know that the miracle play was performed
here as well as elsewhere. Stow’s contribution to our knowledge I have
already quoted. FitzStephen, too, speaks of these plays. Piers Plowman
mentions them as common. Chaucer’s Wife of Bath goes to processions,
pilgrimages, miracle plays, and marriages. To the class of Church Play
belongs the curious function of the Boy Bishop, which was practised
in St. Paul’s and in many parish churches of the City. On the eve of
St. Nicholas, the choristers elected one of their number to be the Boy
Bishop. A set of episcopal robes was provided for the boy, including a
mitre, a pastoral staff, and all the vestments:—
“Towards the end of evensong on St. John’s Day, the boy bishop and
his clerks, arrayed in their copes and having burning tapers in their
hands, and singing those words of the Apocalypse (ch. xiv.), _Centum
quadraginta_, walked processionally from the Choir to the Altar of
the Blessed Trinity, which the boy bishop incensed. Afterwards they
all sang the anthem, and he recited the prayer commemorative of the
Holy Innocents. Going back into the Choir, these boys took possession
of the upper Canons’ stalls, and those dignitaries themselves had to
serve in the boys’ places, and carry the candles, the thurible, the
book, like acolytes, thurisers, and lower clerks. Standing on high,
wearing his mitre, and holding his pastoral staff in his left hand,
the boy bishop gave his solemn benediction to all present; and, while
making the sign of the cross over the kneeling crowd, he said:—
Crucis signo vos consigno: vestra sit tuitio.
Quos nos emit et redemit suæ carnis pretio.”
The day after, a sermon, which was written for him, was preached by the
Boy Bishop; at this the scholars of St. Paul’s were bound to attend. It
has been sometimes stated that the boy celebrated mass, but this is not
true; it was impossible at any time in the history of the Church that a
child or any person but a priest should be allowed to celebrate mass.
This curious and apparently irreverent ceremony formed part of the
general rejoicing, mumming, and feasting of the season. Probably it was
explained in something of this way. It taught the children that the
things done by the altar concerned them, the young as well as the old.
It deepened their impression and strengthened their hold of the simple
doctrines which they were taught. It was, in other words, a presentment
of the same thing in a different form.
CHAPTER IX
SUPERSTITIONS, ETC.
When we think of the great mass of people of Mediæval London, when we
think of their laborious and industrious days, the precarious nature
of their lives, the perils which attended them, far greater to our
thinking than those of the present day—dangers ever present, of fire,
famine, plague, pestilence, and war, we are moved to inquire into
the ideas and beliefs which controlled the minds of this apparently
inarticulate mass. There were ideas on religion, on superstitions,
on manners and customs, on war, and on government. As regards their
religion, there was no doubt, or question, or hesitation whatever, as
to the one leading doctrine which influenced them. They were all, of
course, absolutely certain that after death came either the pains of
purgatory or the torments of hell. How could there be either doubt or
question, when they could see depicted on the walls of the churches
the Day of Judgment with the devils receiving souls and hurling them
into the flames? They could see the souls themselves plunged to the
neck in yellow flames, in torments unspeakable and endless, with
bodies unconsumed and indestructible: the golden Heavens, the saints
sitting with crowns upon their heads and harps in their hands. On
these points there could be no doubt. Since every man, as the priests
told them, was continually committing all kinds of sin, both carnal
and venial, there was no chance for any one to escape except through
the pains of purgatory. These, of course, could be procured as a
substitute for the other place by the kind offices of the Church.
For this reason, and among the great mass of the people for no other
reason, not because the Church cultivated morality and honesty, peace
and mercy and righteousness, but simply and solely in order to secure
purgatory which, at least, however terrible, did offer a termination
after many years: with this object in view, and with no other, the rich
men built their churches, founded chantries, masses, almshouses, paid
pilgrimages, gave rich presents to the Church, and built colleges for
the priests.
[Illustration: TORMENTS OF HELL
From twelfth-century MS. executed at Convent of Hohemburg. MS.
destroyed in the fire of Strasburg Library, 1870.]
At first a man was sufficiently fortified by the last offices ordered
by the Church itself: he died in hope when he had received extreme
unction. Presently, however, people became a little doubtful; the fear
arose that the service of the Church for the dying might prove by
itself insufficient to ensure for the soul entrance into purgatory.
Accordingly, therefore, new precautions were invented. Men thought that
it would be safer for them if they were buried in consecrated ground
within, not outside, the walls of the church: again, it would certainly
be safer to be laid as near the high altar as possible. Then again,
it was discovered that the church of the monastery was more sacred,
and therefore still safer than the parish church. After this, it was
believed that some monasteries were even safer than others. Thus the
Greyfriars Church in London was esteemed a much more desirable place
of interment than St. Paul’s: it was therefore crammed from east to
west with monuments of kings and princes, great lords and great ladies.
Here they all lay buried in the habit of a Franciscan, hoping either to
step into Heaven in the guise of a Friar, or at least, being in such a
guise, to get off at the Last Day with a shorter allowance of purgatory
than that due to them, or even without any purgatory at all.
It seems to us, with our ideas of equality, a most monstrous belief
that a rich man should be able to buy himself out of purgatory, while
a poor man must endure the full weight and penalty of his sins. I
do not think that the poor man considered the matter in this way at
all. On the contrary, it was one of the attributes of wealth and rank
that they should make the conquest of Heaven more easy. The poor
accepted the situation. Their poverty was imposed upon them with all
its consequences. They could not, however they tried, rise out of it:
between nobility and villeinhood there was an impassable gulf: well for
them that the Lord had left open a way even after many thousand years
of purgatory.
As regards the doctrines of the Church, the great mass of the people
knew very little, and questioned not at all. The history of the Saints
and of the Old and New Testaments they partially understood, because on
the walls and in the windows of their parish churches were everywhere
represented the acts of Christ and of the Apostles and those of the
Saints. Moreover, as we have seen, in the mysteries or sacred plays,
the scenes from the Old Testament were performed with grotesque, and
even burlesque, imitations in the open air for all the world to see.
The influence of the Church on morals was probably no greater in the
Middle Ages than it is now. Certainly men were no more moral than they
are now. In saying this, one is not attacking the moral influence of
the Church. In a time of greater rudeness, greater ignorance, greater
lack of self-command, greater violence, one would expect what actually
happened, viz. that there were times when the power of the Church
seemed lost, _e.g._ in the Civil Wars of King Stephen’s reign. As for
the City, much the same cheating went on in trade, and there was quite
as much laxity in morals of every other kind as we can boast of in
our own time. Moreover, it is always difficult to decide when the law
punishes an evil-doer-whether it is the law or the preaching of the
Church which restrains others from becoming evil-doers.
As regards the superstitions of the people of London. They were at
all times believers in magic and sorcery, but, as always happens,
many of the popular beliefs seemed often to sleep or to be dead. It
was only from time to time that there occurred an outbreak of belief
showing that superstition of this kind still existed among them. The
most notable case, for instance, is that of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of
Gloucester, whom we heard of at p. 210: she was accused of attempting
to compass the death of Henry the Sixth by means of a magic image.
Everybody seems to have firmly believed this story, which, indeed, may
have been perfectly true. She, however, did penance in the City of
London, and was confined for life in Chester Castle, and the woman who
assisted her was put to death. Later on, Richard the Third endeavoured
to make out that Elizabeth Woodville had been guilty of magic and
sorcery.
[Illustration: THE CHAPEL OF THE HOSPITAL FOR LEPERS IN KENT STREET,
SOUTHWARK, CALLED LE LOCK,
_dedicated to S^t. Mary and S^t. Leonard_.
Founded prior to the XIV{^th}. of Edw II.
M B
This Chapel Was Built To the Honour of God and for the Use of the Poor
Infirm and Impotent People Harbourd Within this Hospital
_May Mar Bond Esq Treasurer_ Anno 1636
_Inscription over the Door_
From the Grangerised Edition of Brayley’s _London and Middlesex_, in
the Guildhall Library.]
Other superstitions the people had, and, as at the present day, obscure
persons earned their livelihood by pretending to discover where stolen
property was to be found, and by telling fortunes and the like. A
curious superstition is mentioned by Chaucer. He tells us that, by the
help of a bone of a wether’s right shoulder, from which the flesh had
been boiled (not roasted) away, some could tell what was being done in
far countries, “tokens of pees and of werre, the staat of the relme,
sleynge of men, and spousebreche.”
The actual attitude of the people towards the claims and pretensions of
the Church are illustrated by the wills of which I have already made
so liberal a use. (R. Sharpe, _Calendar of Wills_.) Thus, as we have
seen, it was an article of faith down to the middle of the sixteenth
century that the soul could be released from purgatory, or could be
relieved from many years of purgatory, by good works done for the
Church, by masses said after death, by the prayers of the Religious,
or by securing a share in their merits. Thus, a citizen left money
for the maintenance and decoration of the parish church, for obits,
for trentals, _i.e._ services of thirty masses, for a daily mass in
perpetuity; for so many masses, perhaps a thousand within three days
of death; for the endowment of a chantry, and perhaps the erection
of a Chantry Chapel; for the purchase of books on Church Service,
vestments, altar cloths, Paschal candles, and singing candles. Again,
as the maintenance of bridges was in itself a religious duty, bequests
for that purpose were common. In order to secure a share in the merits
of the Religious, bequests were constantly made to all the orders of
the mendicant Friars—the Franciscans or Grey Friars; the Dominicans or
Black Friars; the Carmelites or White Friars; the Augustinian or Austin
Friars; and, though they were not always included, the Crutched Friars,
or Friars of the Holy Cross. With the same object, bequests were made
to the hermits, anchorites, and ankresses.
Bequests were also made—one believes out of sheer charity, apart from
any considerations as to the safety of the soul—to hospitals, such as
St. Bartholomew’s, St. Mary Spital, St. Mary Bethlehem, St. Thomas’s,
and the three “Colleges” of lepers, “Le Loke” of Southwark, St. Giles’
in the Fields, and the House with the “misil cotes” at Hackney.
Bequests were made to the Prisons, Newgate, Ludgate, Fleet, the two
Marshalseas, the Clink in Southwark, the White Lyon in Southwark, the
City Compters, the Borough Compter, and the Gate House of Westminster.
Bequests were also made to pilgrims, that the testator might enjoy the
benefits conferred upon pilgrimage.
Bequests were made to the poor of the testator’s Company or parish: of
clothes to friends or to kinsfolk: clothes made of fur, silk, satin,
and fine cloth, girdles, chains, daggers, rings, weapons, armour,
drinking cups, silver plate, pewter.
The wife, at her husband’s death, was entitled to one-third of the
personal property; she was, however, generally provided for by a dower
which exceeded the amount she could claim. I have already described the
vow of perpetual widowhood, which was not an uncommon thing for a widow
to make, according to the form provided by the Church. Sometimes she
took the vows and entered a convent.
CHAPTER X
ORDER OF BURIAL
The display at funerals, and the ceremonies observed, the hospitality
offered, and the order of the procession, formed a large part in the
social life of the time, especially in times when some great man or
other was always dying. The following is the order of the funeral
procession of the fifteenth century, set forth in detail:—First, for
the Burial of a King. (_Archæologia._)
[Illustration: FUNERAL SERVICE
Drawing of the fourteenth century.]
“What shall be don on the demyse of a King annoynted? When that a King
annoynted is decessed, after his body is sp’ged, it must be washed
and clensed by a Bishop for his holy annoyntment, than the body must
be bamed, wrapped in laun, or reynez yf it may be gotyn, than hosyn
cherte, & a perer of shone of rededlether, & do on his surcote of
cloth, his cap of estate on his bed, and then ley hym on a fair borde
cou’ed with cloth of gold, his on hande on his bely & a sep’r in the
toder hande, & oon his face a kerchief yef the weder will it suffre.
And when he may not godely longer endur, take hym away and bowell hym
and then eftones bame hym, wrappe him in raynez welw trameled in cords
of silke, than in tarseryn tramelled, & than in velvet, & so in clothe
of gold well tramelled, and than led hym and cofre hym, and in his leed
write hym a plate of his stile, name, and the date of our Lord gravyn,
and yef ye cary hym, mak an ymage like him clothd in a surcote with a
mantell of estate, the laces goodly lying on his bely, his sep’r in his
hande, and a crown on his hed, and so cary hym in a chare open with
lights and baners, accompanyed with lordes and estates as the counseill
can best devyse, having the hors of that chare trapped with diverse
trappers or elles with blake trappers of blake with scochons richely
betyn, and his officers of armes aboute hym in his cotes of armez,
and then a lorde or a knyght with a courser trapped of his armez, his
herneysz upon hym, his salet or basenet on his hed crowned, a shylde
and a spere till he come to the place of his ent’ring. And at the masse
the same to be offred by noble ducs.”
Next, for the Burial of a person of lower rank:—
(1) The procession begins with a sword offered by the most worshipful
man of the kin.
(2) Next follow those who bear the deceased’s Coat of Worship, his
helmet, and his crest.
(3) Then must be borne banners of the Trinity: of Our Lady, of St.
George, or of the saint, “his avower”—_i.e._ the patron saint of the
deceased, and of his arms. There must also be a Guidon of his device
with his word.
(4) There must be a double vallance about the hearse, above and below,
with his word and his device written around.
(5) There must be twelve scutcheons of his arms affixed to the bars
of the hearse, and three dozen “pinselles to stand above the hearse
between the lights.”
(6) There must also be provided as many scutcheons as there are pillars
in the church. Scutcheons may be set up in the four quarters of the
church at discretion.
(7) Torches must be carried to the number of the deceased’s years,
every torch to carry a scutcheon.
(8) Before and beside the hearse must walk five officers of arms
bearing his coat of worship, his sword, his helmet, his crest, and his
banner of arms, together with the banners already mentioned of the Holy
Trinity, Our Lady, St. George, and the Saint, his avower.
(9) Cloth of gold for the ladies to give away.
(10) A company of “innocents” in white carrying tapers.
(11) The horse of the dead man, with a man-at-arms carrying the sword
or spear or battle-axe.
(12) The heir must stand beside the priest when offerings are made.
This order, it will be observed, says nothing about the mourners. There
were troops of mourners: the family, the relations, the friends, the
servants, until the long, slow procession, singing, with the Priests of
the Papey marching before, reached the whole length of Cheapside from
St. Michael le Querne to St. Mildred’s.
PART III
RELIGIOUS HOUSES
CHAPTER I
GENERAL
The history of the Monastic Life, with its rise and its decay, its work
and its importance, has attracted many writers and historians. It has
been fiercely assailed; it has been vehemently defended. In speaking of
the Dissolution it was necessary to state plainly the condition into
which Monks and Friars had fallen in the early sixteenth century. (See
Appendix VIII.) In this place, and as a fitting preface to a review in
detail of the Monastic Houses of London, it may be permitted to quote
those who could speak in praise of the Religious Life. There are two
writers who seem to say all that can be said in favour of Monasticism.
The first was contemporary with the Dissolution; his work is in MS. in
the British Museum. I quote it at second hand from Cunningham, _Growth
of English Industry_ (p. 472):
“There was no person that came to them heavy or sad for any cause that
went away comfortless; they never revenged them of any injury, but was
content to forgive it freely upon submission, and if the price of corn
had begun to start up in the market, they made thereunto with a wain
load of corn, and sold it under the market to poor people, to the end
to bring down the price thereof. If the highways, bridges, or causeys
were tedious to the passengers that sought their living by their
travel, their great help lacked not toward the repairing and amending
thereof, yea oftentimes they amended them on their own proper charges.
If any poor householder lacked seed to sow his land, or bread, corn, or
malt before harvest, and came to a monastery, either of men or women,
he would not have gone away without help: for he should have had it
until harvest, that he might easily have paid it again. Yea if he had
made his moan for an ox, horse, or cow, he might have had it upon his
credit, and such was the good conscience of the borrowers in those days
that the thing borrowed needed not to have been asked at the day of
payment.
They never raised any rent, or took any incomes or garsomes (fines) of
their tenants, nor ever broke in or improved any commons, although the
most part and the greatest waste grounds belonged to their possessions.
If any poor people had made their moan at their day of marriage to any
Abbey, they should have had money given to their great help. And thus
all sorts of people were helped and succoured by abbeys: yea, happy was
that person that was tenant to an abbey, for it was a rare thing to
hear that any tenant was removed by taking his farm over his head, nor
he was not afraid of any re-entry for non-payment of rent, if necessity
drove him thereunto. And thus they fulfilled the works of charity
in all the country round about them, to the good example of all lay
parsons that now have taken forth other lessons, that is, _nunc tempus
alios postulat mores_.”
The second writer is Tanner in his _Notitia Monastica_ (Preface):
“John Wethamsted, Abbot of St. Albans, caused above eighty books to be
transcribed (there was then no printing) during his abbacy. Fifty-eight
were transcribed by the care of one Abbot of Glastonbury, and so
zealous were the monks in general for the work that they often got
lands given and churches appropriated for the carrying of it on. In all
the greater abbeys there were also persons appointed to take notice
of the principal occurrences of the kingdom, and, at the end of every
year, to digest them into annals. In these records they particularly
preserved the memories of their founders and benefactors, the years
and days of their births and deaths, their marriages, children, and
successors, so that recourse was sometimes had to them for proving
persons’ ages and genealogies, though it is to be feared that some of
these pedigrees were drawn up from tradition only, and that in most of
their accounts they were favourable to their friends and severe upon
their enemies. The constitutions of the clergy in their national and
provincial synods, and (after the Conquest) even Acts of Parliament
were sent to the Abbey to be recorded, which leads me to mention the
use and advantage of these religious houses.
First, The choicest records and treasures in the kingdom were preserved
in them. An exemplification of the Charter of Liberties granted by
King Henry the First was sent to some abbey in every county to be
preserved. Charters and inquisitions relating to the County of Cornwall
were deposited in the Priory of Bodmin; a great many rolls were lodged
in the Abbey of Leicester and Priory of Kenilworth until taken from
thence by King Henry the Third. King Edward the First sent to the
religious houses to search for his title to the kingdom of Scotland in
their leigers and chronicles, as the most authentic records for proof
of his right to that crown. When his sovereignty was acknowledged in
Scotland, he sent letters to have it inserted in the chronicles of
the Abbey of Winchcomb and the Priory of Norwich, and, probably, of
many other such places. And when he decided the controversy relating
to the crown of Scotland between Robert Bruce and John Baliol, he
wrote to the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s, London, requiring them to
enter in their chronicles the exemplifications therewith sent of that
decision. The learned Mr. Selden hath his greatest evidences for the
dominion of the narrow seas, belonging to the King of Great Britain,
from monastic records. The evidences and money of private families were
oftentimes sent to these houses to be preserved. The seals of noblemen
were deposited there upon their deaths, and even the King’s money was
sometimes lodged in them.
[Illustration: _Nash del._
NORTH VIEW OF THE ORATORY OF THE ANCIENT INN SITUATED IN TOOLEY STREET,
SOUTHWARK, AND FORMERLY BELONGING TO THE PRIORS OF LEWES IN SUSSEX
_Londina Illustrata_, vol. i.]
Secondly, They were schools of learning and education; for every
convent had one person or more appointed for this purpose, and all the
neighbours that desired it might have their children taught grammar and
church music without any expense to them. In the nunneries, also, young
women were taught to work and read English, and sometimes Latin also.
So that not only the lower rank of people, who could not pay for their
learning, but most of the noblemen’s and gentlemen’s daughters were
educated in these places.
Thirdly, All the monasteries were, in effect, great hospitals, and
were, most of them, obliged to relieve many poor people every day. They
were, likewise, houses of entertainment for almost all travellers. Even
the nobility and gentry, when they were upon the road, lodged at one
religious house and dined at another, and seldom or never went to inns.
In short, their hospitality was such that, in the Priory of Norwich,
1500 quarters of malt, and above 800 quarters of wheat, and all other
things in proportion, were generally spent every year.
Fourthly, The nobility and gentry provided not only for their old
servants in these houses by corrodies,[20] but for their younger
children and impoverished friends by making them first monks and nuns,
and, in time, priors and prioresses, abbots and abbesses.
Fifthly, They were of considerable advantage to the crown. (1) By the
profits received from the death of one abbot or prior to the election,
or, rather, confirmation of another. (2) By great fines paid for the
confirmation of their liberties. (3) By many corrodies granted to old
servants of the crown, and pensions to the King’s clerks and chaplains
till they got preferment.
Sixthly, They were likewise of considerable advantage to the places
where they had their sites and estates. (1) By causing great resort to
them, and getting grants of fairs and markets for them. (2) By freeing
them from the Forest Laws. (3) By letting their land at easy rates.
Lastly, They were great ornaments to the country, many of them were
really noble buildings, and though not actually so grand and neat,
yet, perhaps, as much admired in their times as Chelsea and Greenwich
Hospitals are now. Many of the abbey churches were equal, if not
superior, to our present cathedrals, and they must have been as much an
ornament to the country, and employed as many workmen in building and
keeping them in repair, as noblemen’s and gentlemen’s seats now [1744]
do.”
It will be observed as a doubtful advantage that the nobility and
gentry provided for their old servants by corrodies, and had further
privileges in the way of making their own “younger children and
impoverished friends” monks and nuns, abbots and abbesses. But Tanner
belonged to a time when it was still firmly believed that everything
good and worth having belonged to gentlefolk, so that, if the Monastic
House was of advantage to them, it must necessarily be of advantage to
the country. In other respects, also, one cannot altogether agree with
the learned writer. If, for instance, the Monastic Houses kept schools
open to all comers, what was the need of founding new schools in London
in the fifteenth century? Nor can it be accepted as proved that the
children of poor parents were admitted either to the abbey or the
nunnery school. Let, however, this plea for the Religious stand. There
is enough, and too much, to be said on the other side.
“As to the extent of church property,” Milman remarks (v. 201) “in
London and the neighbouring counties of Middlesex, Surrey, Essex, the
church lands must have been enormous. Hardly a parish in Middlesex
which did not belong, certainly so far as manorial rights, to the
Bishop of London, the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s, the Abbots and
Monks of Westminster, and other Religious Houses; the Carthusians, St.
John Clerkenwell (Hospitallers), Sion, and many smaller foundations.
The chapter of St. Paul’s swept in a broad belt round the north
of London till they met the church of Westminster at Hampstead
and Paddington. The Abbot of Westminster was almost a Prince of
Westminster.”
Again, to quote from the same writer:—
“The wealth of the Clergy, the landed property, even with the tithe,
was by no means the whole: and, invaded as it was by aggression,
by dilapidation, by alienation through fraud or violence, limited
in its productiveness by usage, by burthens, by generosity, by
maladministration, it may be questioned whether it was the largest
part. The vast treasures accumulated by the Avignonese Pontiffs when
the Papal territories were occupied by enemies or adventurers, and
could have yielded but scanty revenues, testify to the voluntary or
compulsory tribute paid by Western Christendom to her Supreme Court
of Appeal. If the Bishops mainly depended on their endowments, to the
Clergy, to the monastic houses, oblations (in many cases now from
free gifts hardened into rightful demands) were pouring in, and had
long been pouring in, with incalculable profusion. Not only might
not the altars, hardly any part of the church might be approached
without a votive gift. The whole life, the death of every Christian
was bound up with the ceremonial of the church: for almost every
office was received from the rich and generous the ampler donation,
from the poorer or more parsimonious was exacted the hard-wrung fee.
Above all, there were the masses, which might lighten the sufferings
of the soul in purgatory: there was the prodigal gift of the dying
man out of selfish love for himself, the more generous and no less
prodigal gift of the bereaved, out of holy charity for others. The
dying man, from the King to the peasant, when he had no further use
for his worldly riches would devote them to this end: the living,
out of profound respect or deep affection for the beloved husband,
parent, brother, kinsman, friend, would be, and actually was not
less bountiful and munificent. Add to all this the oblations at the
crosses of the Redeemer, or the shrines of popular or famous saints,
for their intercessory prayers to avert the imminent calamity, to
assuage the sorrow, or to grant success to the schemes, it might
be, of ambition, avarice, or any other passion, to obtain pardon
for sin, to bring down blessing: crosses and shrines, many of them
supposed to be endowed with miraculous powers, constantly working
miracles. To most of these were made perpetual processions, led by the
Clergy in their rich attire. From the basins of gold or the bright
florins of the King to the mite of the beggar, all fell into the deep
insatiable box which unlocked its treasures to the Clergy. Besides
all these estates, tithes, oblations, bequests to the Clergy and the
monasteries, reckon the subsidies in kind to the Mendicants in their
four Orders—Dominicans, Franciscans, Augustinians, Carmelites. In
every country of Latin Christendom, of these swarms of Friars, the
lowest obtained sustenance: the higher, means to build up and maintain
splendid churches, cloisters, houses. They were a vast standing army,
far more vast than any maintained by any kingdom in Christendom:
at once levying subsidies to an enormous amount and living at free
quarters throughout the land.”
Any investigation into the conditions of monastic life brings the
reader into many strange and unexpected places. At first, probably,
he is impatient over the futility of the life, the loss of the old
ideals, the worship of a Rule which is broken away and disregarded
at every point, the contrast between the profession of sanctity and
the life of idleness. Presently, he begins to understand that at its
worst the monastery always presented some kind of example, if only in
its freedom from violence, and in a discipline, lax perhaps, but far
more severe than could be found outside. And then he observes how much
was done by the monastery, and how much was expected of it. I do not
suppose that the indiscriminate charity enjoined upon the brethren,
and always practised by them, was favourable to the repression of
mendicity, and the discouragement of the tramp and masterless man.
Still there is always the immediate need of the starving and the sick
and the suffering, which should be met without too jealous questioning
into records and antecedents. We need not ask what contributions to
Mediæval Literature and Learning were made by this or that convent: it
is enough to know that here was a Library, and that here the monks set
up reading boxes in their cloisters for those who wished to study. The
example was there. We need not ask how far the town folk or the village
folk were admitted to the monastery school, or if it was used only for
the children of noble parents confided to the Abbot for education. The
school was there, it was an example. We need not, even, pry too closely
into the private lives of the Religious, though I think that as a rule
they were as blameless as could be expected, considering the time and
the manners: the example was there: the rule of chastity, temperance,
obedience, and contempt of wealth.
Again, the reader cannot fail, presently, to understand the eagerness,
the pathetic eagerness, with which the people ran after every new Order
of Religion which appeared. One after the other, they were Reformers:
they would introduce a sterner discipline, fiercer austerities. One
after the other they fell off; the pristine zeal cooled; the new Order
followed in the same lines as the old; the brethren preserved the
letter and threw away the spirit. Most pathetic of all is the respect,
the admiration, the awe, with which the people regarded the Franciscans
in their first splendid self-devotion. They saw a company to whom
nothing was unclean, nothing was beneath their care, no criminal too
base, no wretched woman too low for them, no disease too loathsome, no
hovel or den too filthy for the bearers of consolation and of succour
to approach. What could be too good, too costly, too precious for such
men? They would accept no endowment. They lived on the broken meats of
charity. Then let their church be adorned; let the pillars bear aloft
the roof over chapels and altars ablaze with gold and lights; let their
sacred vessels be of gold—nothing less would serve; let the vestments
be of cloth of gold and silver. And so on until the dreadful suspicion
arose that the Grey Friars were not so holy and so devoted as of old.
They lived upon their reputation for a hundred years and more; and
for a hundred years to follow they slowly decayed, until there was no
reproach too bitter, no invective too vehement, for the poor Franciscan.
Again, as to the uses to which their Houses were put. They were
sanctuaries; they were hospitals; they were places of education for the
sons of nobles; they were places of training for young ecclesiastics:
great ladies, whom it was not politic to punish with imprisonment were
sent to a Monastic House, where they were allowed everything except
the liberty of leaving it. Thus Queen Katharine of Valois, after the
discovery of her secret marriage, was sent to Bermondsey Abbey till
she died: Queen Elizabeth Woodville, who surely must have proved all
the miseries that belong to a crown, was also sent to Bermondsey. Dame
Badlesmere, after her husband’s execution, was sent to the Clares of
London. Then we find the King’s clerks expecting a pension for one
of their body whenever a new Abbot or Prior was elected: and we find
the King sending his old and incompetent servants to the Monastic
Houses for maintenance for the remainder of their lives. Of those who
professed much, more was expected.
In a word, what we find in these glimpses of monastic life is that it
is all so human—so intensely human. Did we expect anything else? Yes,
the Rule demands a life that is superhuman: therefore the Rule breaks
down. Its weakness is that men cannot endure it; yet they have taken
the vows; they cannot break free from the Rule; but they may introduce
alleviations and palliatives—in every Monastic House there was the
Misericordia, where indulgences were granted and conferred.
So we begin with prejudice and with contempt, and we end with sympathy
and pity. After so many years we no longer feel, though we may
understand, the exasperation with which the abuse of the Monastic
system came to be regarded: the accumulation of vast estates in
the hands of a multitude who toiled not neither did they spin: who
professed an austere Rule and lived a luxurious life: who despised
wealth but enjoyed all that wealth could give: who pretended to pay no
regard to birth yet admitted into their ranks none but those of gentle
blood: with whom the difference between profession and practice was
monstrous and scandalous.
I have said that when the Rule was too hard for men to obey, they made
for themselves alleviations.
There was one Rule at least where, so far as one can learn, no
alleviations were practised; in this Rule men had to conform or be
broken in the attempt. It was the Rule of the Carthusians. It was so
austere as to seem well-nigh impossible of observance; but it was
observed; nay, it was loved: Sir Thomas More lived with the brethren
for a time and practised all their austerities; he would have continued
to live with them; he desired nothing better than to live and die under
a Rule which repressed all natural desires, but the brethren would not
receive him: they sent him out into the world to do a nobler work among
the people of his age and of the generations to come.