Tales from the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda No.6: The devil as a roaring lion walketh about seeking whom he may devour

This week we discover an instance of institutional kindness – unusual in the early 17th century – following the suicide of a maid of East Smithfield.

7 October 1616
Mary Play, a Maid of East smithfeild, who poysened hir selfe, in the house of hir Maister, Mr John Barbour, was (by a Licence from my Lord Bishoppe of London) buried in our new Church-yard, without any buriall Service, shee was coffind, and had our Black Cloth, Be Sober and watch, for your aduersary the Divel, as a roaring lion walketh abour, Seeking whom he may devour. 1 Peter. 5 Chap. 8 verse
P69/BOT2/A/003/MS09223 f262v

The first thing that struck me about this entry was the choice of scripture, which seemed to express a great sympathy for the unfortunate Mary Play. This made me wonder if John Clerke (the aptly-named Parish Clerk) and church leaders had information about the circumstances of Mary’s suicide that left them feeling sympathetic rather than merely condemnatory towards her actions as was more usual at this time. We will, of course, never know, but the choice of Bible verse sounded so heartfelt that it I couldn’t help but wonder.

The second particularly interesting thing about this was the fact that Mary was buried in hallowed ground – without a Christian burial service, but in hallowed ground nonetheless – the church having sought permission from the Lord Bishop of London. It was more usual at this time for suicides not only to be denied burial in hallowed ground, but often to suffer descecration of their corpses, and punishment of their families.1

It wasn’t until later in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that suicide began to be viewed not as a sinful decision made voluntarily, but as the result of melancholy madness which was beyond the control of the unfortunate victim. Martin Luther went so far as to argue that suicides were driven to their deaths by the devil, and that they – and their families – therefore could not be held responsible for their actions.2 Our Parish Clerk seems to be of this view as well.

By the early 1700s, the laws disgracing suicides and punishing their families gradually disappeared, and a more humane approach was adopted across Europe.3 It would be interesting to find out how many licences allowing suicides to be buried in hallowed ground were granted by John King, the Lord Bishop of London from 1611 to 1621. I know that he was a well-known Calivinist and anti-Catholic preacher before being appointed Lord Bishop. Did this make him more willing to challenge the dogma of the day? It would certainly appear that at least in this instance he, and St Boltolph’s, were very much ahead of their time.

1 Gale Encyclopaedia of the Early Modern World. http://www.answers.com/topic/suicide accessed 16 August 2011
2 ibid.
3 Sleepless Souls: Suicide in Early Modern England (1990) Michael MacDonald, Terence R. Murphy. Oxford University Press

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).