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
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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
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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.4: No Direction Home

We have two very sad tales this week from the summer of 1588, both of which illustrate the harshness of life on the streets of 16th century London. While the Parish Clerks’ Memoranda contain many instances of collections being taken up for parishioners who have fallen on hard times, they also document numerous tragic endings to the lives of those who, for whatever reason, have not had recourse to such a safety net. First, a tale of homelessness, and possibly mental illness, that resulted in the death of a nameless child:

5 Iuly Anno 1588
A man Chyld kept by Margerett Hewse the Wyfe of William Hewes alijs pewe a carpenter Sometymes Dwellinge in Islingtonn whose wyfe nowe beinge vagarant and caryeinge the Sayde chylde althowghe not beinge Her owne up and Downe wth Her and callinge it by the name of Markes Hewes Fatheringe it uponn Her Husband The Sayd chyld beinge no parishioneres Chyld Dyed in Her armes neare the Cadge by the tower beinge in the Libertie of est Smithfield, And Some Speeches beinge used that She had Starved the chylde where uppon the aldermans Deputie cawlinge to Hem Agnes Porter Jone More and the wyfe of william Pond beinge Searcheres, wt Dyveres other Honest neyghbors to vewe the Sayde chyld and fyndinge no Hurte done to the Sayde chyld, But that it Seemed to Have beene evell looked unto or tended, For that it was Full of Lyce and Dyed of a pynenge Sicknes as the wyves Sayde And the Sayd chyld Havinge Beene Thus vewed By the consent of The Aldermans Deputie the Sayde chyld Buried the vth Daye of Julye anno 1588 beinge Halfe a yeare and xiiij Dayes owlde [Cause of death] pynenge
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Only a few days later, a short but evocative entry describes the lonely death of a 30-year old widow:

11 Iuly Ano 1588
Christiann [Blank] beinge a Widowe Whose Sur name Was not knowne and havinge no Dwellinge place but lyeinge Sicke amongst the Broome that Dothe Lye one the Hill before mr Crewes Dore beinge in the libertie of east Smithfield where She endid Her Lyfe and was Buried the xjth Daye of Julye ano 1588
yeares xxx She dyed of the pox
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Although it would be comforting to think that such tragedies belong solely to a London existing over 400 years in the past, a quick search through the website for Crisis, the national charity for single homeless people, reveals that 3,975 people slept rough at some point in London during 2010/11, of whom 38% were known to suffer from mental health problems. Today, rough sleepers have a life expectancy of just 42 years. We have more in common with the people whose lives are detailed in the Parish Clerk’s Memoranda than we sometimes might like to think.

ATTENTION HISTORIANS: If you are can tell us more about any of these issues in Early Modern England, or indeed, the exact meaning of “pynenge”, which is a very common listing for cause of death in the PCMs, we would love to hear from you. And many thanks to Lucy Inglis, whose comments on Tales from the PCMs No.3 were very illuminating regarding the question of what it meant to be “free” of a Livery Company in the 17th century.

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).