The Customs of Old England

by F. J. Snell

In the statutes of New College, Oxford, there is an injunction against the mock ceremony of shaving on the night preceding magistration. It is called a ludus (or play), and is believed to have been affined to the ecclesiastical mummeries so popular in the Middle Ages, in one of which the characters were a bishop, an abbot, a preceptor, and a fool shaved the precentor on a public stage erected at the west end of the church. There was also a species of masquerade celebrated by the religious in France, which consisted in the display of the most formidable beards; and it is recorded by Gregory of Tours that the Abbess of Poitou was accused of allowing one of these shows, called a Barbitoria, to be held in her monastery.

The only men of religion permitted to wear long beards were the Templars; and, speaking generally,[4] the presence or absence of hair was one of the marks of cleavage between the clergy (tonsi) and the laity (criniti). Even those privileged to wear long hair—we refer, of course, to the male portion of the community—were required to be shorn so far that part of their ears might appear, and that their eyes might not be covered. At first it may seem strange that the question of trimming the hair should come under the cognizance of the Church—the person himself or his barber might have been deemed at liberty to consult his own taste. The canon, however, which regulated the usage was based on the apostolic challenge: "Doth not nature itself teach you that, if a man hath long hair, it is a shame unto him?"

This ordinance applied a fortiori to priests, who had to be content with very little hair. At a visitation of Oriel College by Longland, Bishop of London, in 1531, he ordered one of the Fellows, who was a priest, to abstain, under pain of expulsion, from wearing a beard and pinked shoes, like a laic. It would seem that this spiritual person had been accustomed to ridicule the Governor and Fellows of the college, since he was commanded to abjure that bad habit also.

The correct explanation of the custom condemned by the New College statutes is doubtless that already furnished. Hearne, however, had an idea that it was a reflexion on the Lollards. Wiclif is always represented with a beard, and, as most of his followers were lay-folk, it was possibly a symbol of the sect, which may have recollected the text: "Neither shalt thou mar the corners of thy beard."

The interest of the University in expert tonsure is now well understood, but the craving for the subjugation of falsifying hair must have been quite secondary to that for the sustenance of the bodily powers, and accordingly the cooks stood very near to the purveyors of intellectual aliment. Nor did the Chancellor concern himself merely with the ratification of their ordinances; as the natural sequence, he, or his deputy, saw to it that they were properly respected, and formed a court of appeal for the settlement of internecine differences. Thus, on August 19, 1463, two persons, proctors of the craft of cooks of the University of Oxford, petitioned the Commissary against one of the members who had declined to contribute to the finding of candles, vulgarly called "Coke-Lyght," in the church of St. Mary-the-Virgin, and to a certain accustomed feast on the day of the Cooks' Riding in the month of May. A day was appointed for investigating the matter, when the defendant did not appear, but several witnesses were produced to confirm the plaintiffs' assertions. Robert, the cook of Hampton Hall, deposed that all the cooks of Colleges and Halls had been used to contribute to the annual feast; that he had been a cook for six years, and that the cooks had always nominated two of their number to gather contributions. His testimony was corroborated by Stephen, the cook of Vine Hall, as also by Walter, another cook, and John, the cook of "Brasenos." It is worthy of note that in the record of these proceedings the names are entered as "Stephanus Coke," "Walterus Coke," and "Johannes Coke," thus throwing light on the formation of one of our commonest surnames.

Not only were questions of public policy and "constitutional usage" determined by the Chancellor's court, but delinquents of all descriptions were brought up for judgment. Here we shall do well to remember that this was an ecclesiastical court, and therefore offences against good morals as well as the law of the land were dealt with. A person unjustly defamed as guilty of incontinence could clear himself by a voluntary process of compurgation—that is, by the sworn testimony of reputable friends. If, unhappily, he was guilty, he might rehabilitate himself by formally abjuring his indiscretions. Both scholars and others of the Privilege frequently appeared before the Chancellor in the character of penitents. In 1443 a certain Christina, laundress of St. Martin's parish, swore that she would no longer exercise her trade for any scholar or scholars of the University, because under colour of it many evils had been perpetrated, wherefore she was imprisoned and freely abjured the aforesaid evils in the presence of Master Thomas Gascoigne, S.T.P., the Chancellor. In 1444 Dominus Hugo Sadler, priest, swore on the Holy Gospels that he would not disturb the peace of the University, and would abstain from pandering and fornication, on pain of paying five marks on conviction. In this case four acted as sureties, singly and jointly. In 1452 Robert Smyth, alias Harpmaker, suspected of adultery with Joan Fitz-John, tapestry-maker, dwelling in the corner house on the east side of Cat-strete, abjured the society of the same Joan, and swore that he would not come into any place where she was, whether in the public street, market, church, or chapel, on pain of paying forty shillings to the University. On August 22, 1450, Thomas Blake, peliparius, William Whyte, barber, John Karyn, chirothecarius, "husbundemen" (householders), presented themselves before the Chancellor, and, touching the Holy Gospels, abjured the game of tennis within Oxford and its precinct.

At this point it will be convenient to refer to a custom not by any means confined to the Universities, about which there appears to be some degree of misconception. "Love-days," as they are called, have been strangely confused with law-days, whereas the very essence of the institution was the avoidance of litigation with all its expense and ill-feeling. The practice of submitting disputes to friendly arbitration was seemingly founded on the text: "Dare any of you having a matter against another go to law before the unbelievers and not before the saints?" In these circumstances it is not surprising that the clergy bore a great part in such proceedings; and thus we find Chaucer avouching of his Frere:

In love-dayes ther coude he mochel helpe,
For ther he was nat lyk a cloisterer,
With a thredbare cope, as is a poore scoler,
But he was lyk a maister or a pope.

The University, being a microcosm of the entire kingdom, an imperium in imperio, by virtue of the "privilege roiall," cases occur in which deplorable misunderstandings were referred to the decision of one or more graduates of position—either in the first instance, or, it might be, ultimately, to the Chancellor or Commissary—by persons subject to academic tutelage. When the affair had been adjudicated, forms of reconciliation were prescribed, the parties being required to shake hands, go on their knees to one another, give each other the "kiss of peace," and provide a feast at their mutual expense, the menu of which was sometimes determined by the arbiter.

This interesting and admirable feature of old English life receives such copious illustration from the annals of Oxford that it seems worth while to specify examples. Thus, on November 8, 1445, a dispute between John Godsond, stationer, and John Coneley, "lymner," having been referred to two Masters of Arts and they having failed to compose it within the time stipulated, the Chancellor intervened and decided that John Coneley should work for John Godsond for one year only; that his wages should be four marks, ten shillings; that he should himself fetch his work and return it to his employer's abode; that he should be thrifty in the use of his colours; and that his employer should have free ingress to the place where he sat at work. On July 7, 1446, four arbitrators, having in hand a quarrel between Broadgates and Pauline Halls, imposed the following conditions: That the Principals should implore reconciliation from each other for themselves and their parties; that they should give, either to other, the kiss of peace, and swear upon the Holy Gospels to have brotherly love toward each other for the future, and bind themselves to its observance under a bond to pay one hundred shillings for the violation thereof. The bond was to be in the keeping of the Chancellor, and he was to deliver it, should hostilities be renewed, into the hands of the aggrieved party. David Philip, alleged to have struck John Coneley, was commanded to kneel to him, and ask and receive his pardon. It is worthy of remark that the invariable phrase applied to past quarrels is "ab origine mundi," which left no loophole for the revival of ancestral feuds, however remote in point of time.