Tales from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda No.13: The Final Tale

For this the thirteenth and final Tale from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda for the ReScript blog, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the processes of record-keeping, stretching from the painstakingly hand-written Memorandum Book entries of the 16^th century, to the painstakingly key-tagged digital renditions of the same for the very modern ReScript editing interface, that have combined to help bring the parishioners of St Botolphs without Aldgate vividly to life for 21^st century historians.

Because the memorandum books were written freehand, with no standardised spelling, and without a terribly strict format, the amount of automated key-tagging that we were able to do was very limited. This meant that I had to check every single entry to try to ensure that everything a historian might feasibly want to search for using ReScript could be easily found. I confess that sometimes, especially in the early stages of the work, this could feel quite tedious.

But an interesting thing happened as the work progressed: as I ploughed through innumerable notices of births, engagements, weddings, and funerals, I started to get a sense of the rhythm of life in the parish. I found myself picturing dancing and celebration at the weddings, and feeling fearful for the fate of infants who were in such poor health that they had to be baptised at home instead of at the church. I grew to recognise some of the parishioners and church officials who appeared in the records again and again, like the wonderfully named Balthazar Piggin. And I felt a sense of dread as the first mentions of plague began to appear in the records.

I also began to feel a strange synchronicity with the parish clerks. They and I both tended to stumble and make errors when we had to undertake particularly long and repetitive entries of events (their errors remain visible for all time while mine, mercifully, could be corrected out of existence). And I could practically hear their heavy sighs of resignation when yet another funeral service had to be marked “unpaid”. The role of the church in marking every milestone of the lives of the parishioners – and of many non-parishioners – of their little area of London meant that the ministers and parish clerks probably knew more about the goings-on of the neighbourhood than anyone else.

Having key-tagged countless instances of Mr Hayes the minister flawlessly fulfilling his duties, I found that the following entry rendered him endearingly more human:

14 Iune Ano 1589

Judith Hall the dawghter of Edmund Hall a Surngionn Dwellinge in mother Figgis Alye beinge in the High Streete was cristned the xiiijth Day of June anno 1589 By the minester of Creechurche mr Cowse For that mr Hayse was not well or a Slepe

P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol. 68r

It was the “…or asleep” that tickled me. To conclude this series, I leave you with Mr Hayse’s heroic attempt five years earlier at forcibly establishing brotherly love amongst the parishioners:

24 Maye 1584

Coone clarke was put by the communion

Memerandumm that mr Hayze wt the consent of Bothe the church wardens ded putt Coone clarke and his Wyfe From Receyvinge the comunion the xxiiijth Daye of maye in ano 1584 For that theye Weare not in love and charetie with their neyghbores Hentell Suche tyme as theie Do reconsyle them selves

P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol. 55r

Thank you to everyone who has been following Tales from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and hope that you will keep checking in to the blog to chart the progress of ReScript as Bruce Tate and the team continue their excellent and innovative work. And be sure to stay in love and charity with your neighbours. It’s what Mr Hayes would have wanted.

Many thanks to St Botolph without Aldgate and London Metropolitan Archives for permission to reprint extracts from the Parish Clerks' Memoranda.

The Parish Clerks' Memoranda transcripts were prepared by the Centre for Metropolitan History team as part of their Economic and Social Research Council-funded Life in the Suburbs project (Grant Reference: RES-062-23-1260; http://www.history.ac.uk/projects/life-in-the-suburbs).

Tales from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda No.12: A Tale of Two Pirates

When is a pirate not a pirate? In 16th century London the distinction could mean the difference between being hailed as a hero, or swinging from the gallows at Wapping. In August 1587, Thomas Conodale found himself on the wrong end of this distinction:

30 Awgust Ano 1587: burial

Thomas Conodale beinge A Batchelor He was Borne in Glossester beinge A Sea Faringe man and executed at wappinge For pyracye the xxxth daye of Awgust in ano 1587 betwixt the ower of too and three of the clocke was Buried the Sayde xxxth Daye of awgust in ano 1587
beinge xxviij yeares owlde no parishioner For the minester ijs For the grownd in the common churche yeard xijd For the Second clothe xd For the pitt & knell ijs viijd For the clarkes atendance viijd For the Sextenes attendance iiijd he was exicuted at Waping
P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol 128r

How I wish the High Court of Admiralty records were digitised and available online! These contain all records of prosecutions for piracy and would be very helpful for learning more about Conodale’s circumstances. That his body was buried rather than being publicly displayed on Execution Dock indicates that he was considered a small fish. Notorious pirates were left on the gibbet until three tides had washed over them, and then their remains were often covered in tar (to slow the process of decay) and displayed hanging in chains as a warning to other seafaring men.

If you had a talent for ocean-based looting and violence but did not much fancy being hanged as a criminal, you could always join up with a captain who had been granted a Letter of Marque from the monarch. This document essentially provided a license for “privateering”, or legal piracy, and was in use in England from the 16th to the 19th centuries. As ever, when goods are being appropriated, the distinction between whether it is considered a criminal or legitimate act depends on who is doing the pilfering – and who gets the spoils. In 1587, Sir Francis Drake was England’s most successful privateer, seizing Spanish ships and goods from as far afield as the Caribbean and presenting the booty to Elizabeth I. The following excerpt from the Calendar of State Papers Relating to English Affairs in the Archives of Venice, Volume 8: 1581-1591 accessed from British History Online demonstrates just how lucrative such activities could be:

July 17. Original Despatch, Venetian Archives.

Letters from England, dated the 9th inst., announce the arrival of Drake at Plymouth. After having worked great havoc on the coast of Spain he had seized one large galleon, called the S. Lorenzo, on its way from Calicut with a cargo of spices to the value of a million of gold, and ten other ships with sugar, cotton, and various merchandise on their way from Brazil. In London there were great signs of rejoicing, and the Queen sent two gentlemen to meet Drake and to do him honour. Sugar is so cheap there that what costs five reals here is sold for half a real the pound there.

This is only one example of the riches Drake brought to Elizabeth: amazingly, he eventually seized enough goods to pay off the national debt in its entirety, for which service he was duly knighted and paid handsomely enough to be able to buy Buckland Abbey in Devon. The circumstances of his crew members were considerably less exalted, and the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda books contain many references to sailors returning from Drake’s expeditions in ill health and with little money, ending their lives in lodgings:

5 Iulye Ano 1587

Roger Gillisonn beinge a Sayler & a Stranger whose Dwellinge was in westcaple in Sealand he was Browght from Spayne in Sr Frauncis Dracke his Ships and Beinge Sicke was Lodged at the Howse of EdwardWynard a victulor Dwellinge at the Signe of the Flower de luce beinge in the libertie of east Smithfield wheare he endid his Lyfe and was Buried the vth Daye of Julye in ano 1587
P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol100r

Thomas Conodale and Roger Gillisonn: both minor players in the colourful 16th century saga of piracy. One ended his life “dancing the hempen jig”, the other dying among strangers far from home. Whether deemed criminal or legitimate, a pirate's life was a far cry from our romanticised notions. This would never happen to Johnny Depp…

Many thanks to St Botolph without Aldgate and London Metropolitan Archives for permission to reprint extracts from the Parish Clerks' Memoranda.

The Parish Clerks' Memoranda transcripts were prepared by the Centre for Metropolitan History team as part of their Economic and Social Research Council-funded Life in the Suburbs project (Grant Reference: RES-062-23-1260).

Tales from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda No. 10: Born in the coffin house, born in the street

Judging from the 'Unwed mothers single-handedly destroy the economy'-style articles of certain 21st century newspapers, one might be tempted to think of the debate around the moral and economic impacts of single motherhood as a uniquely modern social phenomenon. But in reading the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda, it soon becomes clear that this was also an issue of great importance in 16th and 17th century London. However, some things were decidedly different. Without the safety net of social welfare programmes, homeless, pregnant women often found themselves having to give birth in truly dreadful circumstances, as the following two christening notices make clear.

7 May Ano 1589

fol. 56r

Amy Hurtlye the baceborne Dawghter of Jhon Hurtlye a baker begotten of the body of Passcall Davis a widdowe Havinge no abydinge place but was Browght abed in Hogg lane neare the barres and lyeinge in chyldbed in the coffin Howse in the churche yeard whose Sayd chyld was cristned the vijth Daye of May anno 1589 beinge no parishioneres chyld

26 Octobris 1614

Elizabeth yarner, the Reputed daughter of one Thomas yarner a lewd fellow, the Mother named Agnes Charley, as Bae as the father, who was delivered of the same Child in the libertie of East smith smith in ye street, it was Christned the xxvith day of October, Anno domini 1614

You may have noticed the very different moral tones taken by our two Parish Clerks in documenting these births. Thomas Harrydaunce in 1589 restricts himself to a fairly neutral statement of the facts. And he later records that Pascal Davis – a homeless widow reduced to giving birth in the coffin house of St Botolphs, and whose infant daughter sadly died one week later - was 'churched' on 24th May. 'Churching' was the ritual welcoming of a woman back into the church after giving birth. Whether this ritual was primarily one of purification, or of thanksgiving for having survived the ordeal, is a matter of some dispute among historians, but the churching of Pascal showed that she was still welcome within St Botolphs, in spite of having a child out of wedlock, and in spite of being categorised as not having previously been a parishioner. From the tone of Parish Clerk John Clerke in 1614, however, it is likely that Agnes Charley – giving birth in the street, and described as being as base as her lewd partner Thomas – was not similarly welcomed, and indeed there is no indication in the Memorandum book that she was ever churched.

The PCMs record many births either to single mothers or to women who were married but “no parishioners” in which someone from the community would officially pledge to make sure that the child would not become a financial burden to the parish, or in the terminology of the day “to be kept harmles to the parish”. And there are recurring entries throughout the PCMs detailing the expenses paid by the church for the housing, feeding, and education of orphans. Most historians of illegitimacy in early modern England agree that the primary concern of church officials was the financial settlement of such children.(1) And indeed, punishment of unwed parents was largely unheard of for wealthy nobles. The notion of morality as involving not only the committing of sin, but also of the subsequent economic impact on the wider community, was deeply ingrained in early modern England’s secular and church laws. Interestingly, in the 16th century men and women tended to be punished roughly equally, being publicly whipped or spending time in the stocks as evidence of their immorality and thus serving as a cautionary tale for the rest of the community. But in 1609 imprisonment was introduced as a punishment for adultery – but only for women. Men were required to remain free to work and earn wages so that they could pay for the upkeep of their illegitimate children.(2) Women became the symbol of moral turpitude that had to be kept away from the rest of society. Could imprisonment have been the fate of Agnes Charley and her child? The PCMs appear to reflect a significant change in the attitudes of the church towards unmarried mothers between the 16th and 17th centuries.

Donna Baillie

1. Love, Lust and License in Early Modern England, Johanna Rickman (Ashgate, 2008).

2. Ibid.

Many thanks to St Botolph without Aldgate and London Metropolitan Archives for permission to reprint extracts from the Parish Clerks' Memoranda.

The Parish Clerks' Memoranda transcripts were prepared by the Centre for Metropolitan History team as part of their Economic and Social Research Council-funded Life in the Suburbs project (Grant Reference: RES-062-23-1260; http://www.history.ac.uk/projects/life-in-the-suburbs).

Tales from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda No.9: Captured by the Turks – or was that the Hungarians?

If ever confirmation was needed that the world of international politics in the 16th century could be deeply confusing, not only for modern historians, but also for the people living at the time, our Parish Clerk’s slip of the pen in the following entry does the trick:

26 Maye Ano 1588 A collection For Thomas Morgann Who hathe bene captived by ["the" erased] Infedyles [erased: "Hungarians"] Memerandum that Thomas Morgann of Radrife in the Cowntie of Surrye who Had Served Her Matie in Her Warres in Dyveres places that is to Saye in the warres at newe Haven under Raphe Browne in a Ship Caled the Red Dragonn Also at Lafowld in Ireland in a Ship called the newe christopher alijs elizabethe Chester and in Dyveres other placis and after that Served unde[r] Sr william Gorge knyght in Hungarie Where by Infedyles He was Taken prisoner and above xv yeares kept bond and thrall in most cruell Slaverie and Bondage Hentell ower lovinge Subiect edwad cottonn esquyer most charetablye Redeemed Hem from the Same in considerationn wheareof He was Lycenced By Her Maties Letteres pattentes to gather the Devociones of weldisposed people enhabetinge wthin the cittie of London and the Suburbes thereof and also ower cowntie of norfolke and the towne of norwitche for one whole yeare Dated the Second of maye in the xxxth yeare of her Maties Raygne By vert[ue] whereof There was gathered for Hem inower parishe churche the xxvjth Daye of Maye ano 1588 the Some of xvjs vijd the wch beinge engrosed upon the Letteres pattenes was Delivered to His wyfe the Sayde Daye above Wrighten

P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol 69r

I have a great deal of sympathy with the Parish Clerk’s initial muddle as, when I started researching this entry, I found it all rather confusing myself. The entry seemed to indicate that Thomas Morgan had fought in the Habsburg-Ottoman Wars, but why would he and Sir William George have been in Hungary in the first place? Hungary was part of the Catholic Habsburg empire, which was actively opposed by Protestant England. But in spite of this, English mercenaries were encouraged to serve under Emperor Maximillian II in the defence of Hungary. And there appears to have been long-standing support for Hungary’s battle against the Turks, as the following record from British History Online indicates:

In 1566, the Archbishop of Canterbury issued "A Fourme to be used in Common prayer...to excite all godly people to pray...for the preservation of those Christians and their Countreys that are now invaded by the Turke in Hungary or elsewhere".

So, it would appear that, although across Europe Catholics and Protestants were at daggers drawn, the possibility of an Ottoman invasion of Europe was seen as the bigger threat. However ... Elizabeth I supported the Protestants of the Netherlands and France in their revolt against the Catholic Habsburg empire, of which Hungary was a part, even though English mercenaries were encouraged to fight for Hungary against the Ottomans, and Elizabeth I was also working to secure a pact with the Ottomans to open up the lucrative trade routes in the Levant to England. It’s no wonder the Parish Clerk wasn’t sure whether Thomas Morgan had been captured by the Turks or the Hungarians.

Meanwhile, wounded soldiers and sailors of the day returned to an England where, upon receipt of a license granted by the Queen, they or their relatives could seek the charitable “devocions of weldisposed people”. As my colleague Mark Merry explains, “War was as big business then as it is now, and mercenaries (even noble ones) were plentiful, especially as land grabbing became something of a feature in foreign wars. A part of the business involved ransoming, even of relatively humble individuals, and it was not unusual for people to be held for some years (although 15 does seem like a long time), especially as there were people who made a lucrative living organising and paying ransoms. It worked kind of like an insurance scheme, but relied on the Christian charity of donors.” As we saw in Tales no.3, the parishioners of St Botolphs without Aldgate often took returning sailors into their homes, and bore witness as many of them died from injury or illness contracted while fighting for the realm. One would imagine that this first-hand experience of the plight of such men would have touched the parishioners deeply, making them all too aware that without their charity, men like Thomas Morgan would be left with no support at all.

Donna Baillie

Many thanks to St Botolph without Aldgate and London Metropolitan Archives for permission to reprint extracts from the Parish Clerks' Memoranda.

The Parish Clerks' Memoranda transcripts were prepared by the Centre for Metropolitan History team as part of their Economic and Social Research Council-funded Life in the Suburbs project (Grant Reference: RES-062-23-1260; http://www.history.ac.uk/projects/life-in-the-suburbs).

Tales from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda No.5: Naming and Shaming

Even though urbanisation had led to greater flux in the population of 16th century London, parish communities such as that of St Botolph’s without Aldgate remained tightly knit groups, where protecting one’s reputation and avoiding the opprobrium of one’s neighbours were powerful motivating forces. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the church’s stance on sexual misconduct, where the involvement of the wider congregation played a key role, as Edith Ellis found when she and her husband were accused of consorting with women of ill repute...

19 Ianewary 1583
Richard Ellis and his wife weare Adioyned To make Thier purgation of thier Suspected evell Lyfe
Memerandumm that Richard ellis and his wyfe beinge presented by the church warden and Swornemen to live verye Suspitiuslye and contrarye to Lawe, by the wch prsentment beinge Suspeckted, it apeared that it was for receyvinge of Lyght women and for Suspition of Bawdrye
The Sayde wyfe whose Christian name is Edithe apearinge and Juditiallye answeringe ther to hathe denyed herselfe to be giltye thereof and thereupon She is inioyned to make her canonycall purgation therof in dewe forme of Lawe in the consistorye place in powles churche London upon Wensdaye beinge the xxixth daye of Janewary 1583 Betwene Howeres of ix ands xj of the clocke before noone wt Six honest women her neygbores beinge parishoneres and Inhabitantes of the parishe of St bottolphes extra algate of good and honest name fame and credit. These wordes weare pronownsed in ower parishe churche this xixth daye of Janewa'y in ano 1583
P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol.13r

You may have noticed that although both Richard and Edith were accused, it would appear that only Edith had to answer to her peers to make her purgation. The Parish Clerk gave no explanation of this, other than stating that Edith had denied being guilty of the charges. I could find no further mention of Richard Ellis, for example as having been excommunicated, so his fate remains a mystery.

Barely a week had passed before another scandal came to the community’s attention: there was a love rat within their midst...

26 Ianewary 1583
Iost Williamson Alijs Soll his penance
Jost Williamson alijs Soll a dutchmann beinge a cutler and Dwellinge in whightchapell parishe Ded pennance in a whyghet sheete in ower parishe churche of St buttolphes wt owt allgate London the xxvjth daye of Janewarye in ano 1583 And was For contracktinge him selfe unto one womann, and marryenge wt an other contrarye to the Law cannonicall
P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol.16r

Now this is interesting as it is an example of a well-documented form of shaming punishment which appears to have originated in medieval times and continued through until the 18th century, known as “sheet penance”. Being paraded before one’s fellow parishioners in a white sheet brought the penitent’s private indiscretions into the full glare of the public view just as effectively as today’s tabloid press exposés of Jost’s modern equivalents. But in the closely-knit communities of the 16th century, the potential repercussions were potentially more damaging, as those who were named and shamed could find themselves expelled from the community as well as publicly humiliated. Shakespeare drew on this practice in Henry VIth part 2, when he portrayed Humphrey’s wife Eleanor being led through the streets wearing a white sheet and carrying a candle after being accused of dabbling in witchcraft in order to further her husband’s political career, before being promptly banished.

I have been unable to find any information about how these practices originated, and what exactly was represented by the white sheet and candles. If any historians can shed a bit of light on this, or if you have further interesting information on shaming punishments in medieval or Early Modern England, please do let us know!

To return our Tales from St Botolph’s, I can only imagine the heavy sigh with which Mr Hayes the minister prepared his homily for that week:

26 Ianewary 1583
A part of a homelye read
A part of a homelye conserninge the dewties of maried folkes was Red in ower churche by mr Hayes the xxvjth day of Janewarye in ano 1583
P69/BOT2/A/019/MS09234/001 fol.16r

Many thanks to St Botolph without Aldgate and London Metropolitan Archives for permission to reprint extracts from the Parish Clerks' Memoranda.

The Parish Clerks' Memoranda transcripts were prepared by the Centre for Metropolitan History team as part of their Economic and Social Research Council-funded Life in the Suburbs project (Grant Reference: RES-062-23-1260; http://www.history.ac.uk/projects/life-in-the-suburbs).