England in the Days of Old

A similar story is related respecting a Barton-on-Humber bell ringing custom. Richard Palmer left in 1664 a bequest to the sexton of Workingham, Berkshire, for ringing a bell every evening at eight, and every morning at four o’clock. One reason for ringing this, was “that strangers and others who should happen, on winter nights, within hearing of the ringing of the said bell, to lose their way in the country, might be informed of the time of the night, and receive some guidance into the right way.”

John Wardall, in his will dated 29th August, 1656, provided for a payment of £4 per annum being made to the Churchwardens of St. Botolph’s, Billingsgate, London, “to provide a good and sufficient iron and glass lanthorn, with a candle, for the direction of passengers to go with more security to and from the water-side, all night long, to be fixed at the north-east corner of the parish church, from the feast-day of St. Bartholomew to Lady-Day; out of which sum £1 was to be paid to the sexton for taking care of the lanthorn.” In 1662 a man named John Cooke made a similar bequest for providing a lamp at the corner of St. Michael’s Lane, next Thames Street.

In past ages churches were frequently unpaved and the floor usually covered with rushes. Not a few persons have left money and land for providing rushes for churches. In these latter days rushes are no longer strewn on the floor for keeping the feet warm in cold weather, but at a number of places old rights are maintained by the carrying out of the custom. At Clee, Lincolnshire, for example, the parish officials possess the right of cutting rushes from a certain piece of land for strewing the floor of the church every Trinity Sunday. The churchwardens preserve their rights by cutting a small quantity of grass annually and strewing it on the church floor. At Old Weston, Huntingdonshire, a similar custom still lingers. “A piece of land,” says Edwards in his “Remarkable Charities,” “belongs, by custom, to the parish clerk for the time being, subject to the condition of the land being mown immediately before Weston feast, which occurs in July, and the cutting thereof strewed on the church floor, previous to divine service on the feast Sunday, and continuing there during divine service.” At Pavenham, Bedfordshire, the church is annually strewn with grass cut from a certain field, on the first Sunday after the 11th July. “Until recently,” says a well-informed correspondent, “the custom was for the churchwardens to claim the right of removing from the field in question as much grass as they could ‘cut and cart away from sunrise to sunset.’ A few years ago this arrangement was altered into a yearly payment on the part of the tenant of the field of one guinea.” The money is spent in purchasing grass for spreading on the church floor. The parishioners have always taken a deep interest in this old custom. On the benefaction table of Deptford Church is recorded that “a person unknown gave half-a-quarter of wheat, to be given in bread on Good Friday, and half a load of rushes at Whitsuntide, and a load of pea-straw at Christmas yearly, for the use of the church.” In 1721, an offer of 21s. per annum was accepted in lieu of the straw and rushes, and in 1744, the sum of 10s. yearly in place of the half-quarter of wheat.

John Rudge, by his will dated 17th April, 1725, left a pound a year to a poor man to go round the parish church of Trysull, Staffordshire, during the delivery of the sermon, to keep people awake and drive out of the church any dogs which might come in. Richard Brooke left 5s. a year for a person to keep quiet during divine service the boys in the Wolverhampton church and churchyard.

At Stockton-in-the-Forest, Yorkshire, is a piece of land called “Petticoat Hole,” and it is held on the condition of providing a poor woman of the place every year with a new petticoat.

We will close this chapter with particulars of a novel mode of distributing a charity. At Bulkeley, Cheshire, a charity of 19s. 2d. was given to the poor as follows. The overseer obtained the amount in coppers, placed them in a peck measure, and invited each of the poor folks to help himself or herself to a handful.

An Old-Time Chronicler

We have frequently referred to the writings of John Stow in this work, and we think a short account of his life and labours will prove interesting to our readers.

From the ranks of tailors have sprung many famous men. Not one more worthy, perhaps, than honest John Stow, the painstaking compiler of works which have found a lasting place in historic literature.

Stow was a Londoner of Londoners, born in 1525, in the parish of St. Michael, Cornhill. His father and grandfather were citizens, and appear to have been most worthy men. John Stow was trained under his father to the trade of a tailor. At an early age he took an interest in the study of history and antiquities, and, as years ran their course, his love of research increased. We have had handed down to us from the pen of Edmund Howes, his literary executor, a well-drawn word-portrait of Stow. We learn that he was tall in stature, and, as befits the ideal student, lean in body and face. His eyes were small and clear, and his sight excellent. As might be expected, through long and active use, his memory was very good. He was sober, mild, and corteous, and ever ready to impart information to those that sought it.

He lived in an historically attractive age. It was a period when some of our greatest countrymen worked and talked amongst men. Gifted authors made the time glorious in our literary annals. Stow’s fame mainly rests on being an exact and picturesque describer of the London of Queen Elizabeth. His Survey is not a mere topographical account of the city, but a pleasantly penned picture, full of life and character, of the social condition, manners, customs, sports, and pastimes of the people.

John Stow was most minute as a writer, and his attention to slight circumstances has caused some critics to make merry over his productions. Fuller, for example, spoke of him “as such a smell-feast that he cannot pass by the Guildhall but his pen must taste the good cheer therein.” It is his consideration of minor matters that renders his book so valuable to the student of bygone times. We may quote, to illustrate this, a few lines from his Survey of London. After a description of the Abbey of St. Clare, he writes: “Near adjoining to this Abbey, on the south side thereof, was sometime a farm belonging to the said nunnery, at which farm I myself, in my youth, have fetched many a halfpennyworth of milk, and never had less than three ale pints for a halfpenny in the summer, nor less than one ale quart for a halfpenny in the winter, always hot from the kine, as the same was milked and strained. One Trolop, afterwards Goodman, was farmer there, and had thirty or forty kine to the pail. Goodman’s son, being heir to his father’s purchase, let out the ground first for the grazing of horses, and then for garden plots, and lived like a gentleman thereby.”

In about his fortieth year, Stow gave up his business as a tailor and devoted his entire life to antiquarian pursuits. Fame he won, but not fortune. In place of being wealthy in his old age, he, as we shall presently see, suffered from poverty. His principal works include his Summary of English Chronicles, first issued in 1561. In 1580, his Annals; or, a General Chronicle of England was published. His most important work was given to the world in 1598, under the title of a Survey of London and Westminster. Besides writing the foregoing original books, he assisted on the continuation of Holinshed’s Chronicle and Speght’s edition of Chaucer, and he was employed on other undertakings.

Many a long journey Stow made in search of information. He could not ride, and had to travel on foot. In the midst of great trials it is recorded that his good humour never forsook him. In his old age he was troubled with pains in his feet, and quietly remarked that his “afflictions lay in the parts he had formerly made so much use of.”

We might well suppose that Stow’s blameless life would render him free from suspicion, and that his grateful countrymen would regard with respect his great work in writing the history of England. Such was not the case. It was thought that his researches would injure the reformed religion, and on this miserable plea he was cast into prison, and his humble home was searched. We obtain from the report of the searchers an interesting account of the contents of Stow’s library. It consisted, we are told, of “great collections of his own, of his English chronicles, also a great sort of old books, some fabulous, as Sir Gregory Triamour, and a great parcel of old manuscript chronicles in parchment and paper; besides miscellaneous tracts touching physic, surgery, herbs, and medical receipts, and also fantastical popish books printed in old time, and others written in old English on parchment.”

John Stow failed to make much money, but on the whole, he lived a peaceful life, enjoying the many pleasures that fall to the lot of the student. Happily for him, to use Howes’ words, “He was careless of the scoffers, backbiters, and detractors.”

It is Howes who also tells that Stow always protested never to have written anything either of malice, fear, or favour, nor to seek his own particular gain or vain-glory, and that his only pains and care was to write the truth.

At the age of four score years, his labours received State acknowledgment. It was indeed a poor acknowledgment, for, in answer to a petition, James I. granted him a licence to beg. Stow sought help, to use his own words, as “a recompense for his labour and travel of forty-five years, in setting forth the Chronicles of England, and eight years taken up in the Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster, towards his relief in his old age, having left his former means of living, and also employing himself for the service and good of his country.”

The humble request was granted, and the document says: – “Whereas our loving subject, John Stow (a very aged and worthy member of our city of London), this five-and-forty years hath, to his great charge, and with neglect of his ordinary means of maintenance (for the general good, as well of posterity as of the present age), compiled and published divers necessary books and chronicles; and therefore we, in recompense of these his painful labours, and for encouragement of the like, have, in our Royal inclination, been pleased to grant our Letters Patent, under our Great Seal of England, thereby authorising him, the said John Stow, to collect among our loving subjects their voluntary contributions and kind gratuities.”

The foregoing authority to beg was granted for twelve months, but, as the response was so small, it pleased the King to extend the privilege for another year. From one parish in the City of London he only received seven shillings and sixpence – a poor reward, to use Stow’s words, “of many a weary day’s travel, and cold winter night’s study.”

His end now was drawing near, and mundane trials were almost over. On the 5th of April, 1605, his well-spent life closed, and his mortal remains were laid to rest in his parish church of St. Andrew, Undershaft. Here may still be seen the curious and interesting monument which his loving widow erected. It is pleasant to leave the busy streets of the great metropolis and repair to the quiet sanctuary where rests the old chronicler, and look upon his quaint monument, and reflect on ages long passed. When the Great Fire of 1666 destroyed the London Stow had so truthfully described, his monument escaped destruction.

The End