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.3: Hang Sorrow! The Remarkable Recovery of the Heavy-Hearted Widower

I was intrigued to read the following account of a grieving widower who, within the space of three weeks, had found the cure for his heavy heart – the gaining of a new wife:

17 Octobris 1615
Thomas Addis Gun-smith in the Minories Street, who continued a havie widower almost three weekes, was Maried again to one Anne Basse a widow of Stepney, by a Licence from Mr Kempe[s] office the Seaventeenth day of October, Anno domini 1615. he was a heavie man, at the death of his other wife but now is lightlie geven, and Saies, hang sorow.
P69/BOT2/A/003/MS09223 f223r

This seemed rather a quick recovery to me, and I wondered if this was common practice. I didn’t have to look far to find another widower who had taken the same route to renewed happiness:

23 Octobris 1615
Henry Jaques, who has continewed a widower almost a moneth, was maried to Mary Sussex, a widow the xxiiith day of October. Anno domini
P69/BOT2/A/003/MS09223 f233v

The only information I could find about their respective first wives were their funeral details. They were buried within a day of each other:

24 September Anno Domini 1615,
Ffrancis Addis, wife to Thomas Addis Gun-smith in the Minories street, was buried in the Church the xxiiith day of September, Anno dm, who had a knell wth the great Bell, the black Cloth not vsed, but paid for, Shee was a Auncient parishioner,
P69/BOT2/A/003/MS09223 f231r

25 Septembris 1615
Elizabeth Jaques, wife Henry Jaques of Cock Alley in Eastsmithfeild was buried the xxvth day of September, Anno dm 1615. Coffind in the old Church-yard, and had the Blacke Cloth
P69/BOT2/A/003/MS09223 f231r

Once ReScript is fully operational, it would be interesting to do an analysis to find the average timespan between the death of one spouse and the marrying of the next in 17th century London, whether this differed between men and women, and whether Thomas Addis and Henry Jaques were unusual in their alacrity.

I did find one further interesting fact about the Addis household: they kept lodgers in their house on Minories Street, including the “seafaring man”, Henry May in 1615. According to the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda, there were quite a few sailors who lodged in the area, some of whom returned from the sea in poor health, and who subsequently died in their lodgings. But Thomas Addis’s lodger, Henry May, appears to have had a former career – or at least training - in the textile industry.

26 Maii 1615
Henry May, a Seafaring man, who lodged in the house of Thomas Addis Gunsmith in the Minories street, was buried in the new Churchyard neer Rosemary lane the xxvith day of May, Anno dm 1615. he was free of the Cloth workers
P69/BOT2/A/003/MS09223 f220r

I consulted my colleague Mark Merry, IHR Digital Projects and Training Officer, about this. Mark supplied the following information:

Ah, a salty sea-dog - there were lots of those in Aldgate in the 17th century! Being free of the Clothworkers doesn't necessarily mean he worked in the textiles industry, but it is quite likely. It means he was trained at the Company, and whether or not he did actively work with cloth, the being 'Free' makes him a man of some social standing. That he ended up as a seafarer and a lodger is interesting, suggesting one of two scenarios:

1) He fell on hard times, and made a living as a sailor signing on as crew as and when a voyage was available
2) 'Sea farer' might imply a more senior figure, a ship's master or perhaps owner/master, and he was involved in trading textiles overseas, which would suggest he was quite well off. That he ended up lodging was common for mariners (even the rich ones), as they were often taken in by parishioners if they came off ship after a voyage and were sick.

As the record shows that the clerk received no payment for his burial, this might suggest that May was the poor kind of sea farer, rather than the more successful kind. I don't think we know enough about him to decide definitively either way. However, if you want a bit more information on him, it so happens that one of the Centre for Metropolitan History's other projects (http://www.history.ac.uk/projects/livery-company) has digitised the membership records of the Clothworkers, and we have May's freedom record. He was made free in 1597 by patrimony - meaning his father (John) was a member of the Clothworkers too. Unfortunately the record in this instance is one of the least informative in the database, so we don't know much more than that...

Making connections such as these is one of the joys of using online digitised resources such as ReScript. You never know where a simple query, such as that into the background of a heavy-hearted widower, may lead you.

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. 2: The Intriguing Tale of the Newgate Newlyweds

Continuing in my quest to key tag the entire contents of the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda from St Botolph’s Church in Aldgate (1583-1625), I came across a very unusual wedding announcement from 5 September 1615.

Christopher Edwardes of the Cittie of Gloucester, Gentleman, and Martha Ffoster of St Michaells parish in Cornehill widow, were Maried (also) by a Licence from the Lord Archbishoppe of Canterbury, ye fift day September Anno domini 1615, The abouenamed Gentleman and his new maried wife, were both Lodged in Newgate, the same weekes, and hang'd Shortly after
(City of London, London Metropolitan Archives, P69/BOT2/A/003/MS09223 f.229r)

Who were Christopher and Martha, how did they end up in the notorious Newgate Prison, and what were the crimes for which they were hanged? The PCMs had no further information to offer – this was, after all, a wedding announcement, not a court record. So where to turn? My first instinct was to search the excellent resource, Old Bailey Online, but their records only begin in 1674 and so could not help with this. Clearly, we need more online digitised historical databases!

So I appeal to the online community of historians: do you have any clues to this mystery? Answers on a blog post...


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).