The Customs of Old England

by F. J. Snell

Till about the commencement of the sixteenth century we are wholly in the dark as to the management of the inns. We then hear of governors, treasurers, and the control of affairs in the different houses lay with the senior members of the societies, who were styled ancients or benchers. The apprentices may be regarded as inchoate Serjeants—Serjeants in the making, persons on the way to become Serjeants. The Serjeants had their own inns; and, on joining the brotherhood, the newly-appointed dignitary was rung out of the inn to which he had previously belonged by the chapel bell.

From Fortescue's "De Laudibus Legum Angliæ," written in France after his withdrawal to that country with Queen Margaret in 1463, we learn that the rule was, when the degree of serjeant-at-law was to be conferred, for the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, with the consent of the other justices, to nominate for the purpose seven or eight of the most experienced professors of the common law. Thereupon the Lord Chancellor issued a writ to each of them, summoning them to appear under a heavy penalty, and take upon themselves the state and degree of serjeant-at-law. On duly presenting themselves they affirmed on oath that they would be ready on a day and at a place, which were then determined, to assume the said state and degree, and that they would give gold according to custom of the realm in such cases ("dabit aurum secundum consuetudinem regni in hoc casu usitatam").

On the date in question a feast was begun, which continued for seven days, and this, with other ceremonies, involved an expenditure, on the part of each debutant of some 1,600 nobles or 400 marks. A portion of this amount went to the purchase of gold rings, and Fortescue tells us that, when he was called to the degree of serjeant, the rings he gave away cost him £40. These differed in value in proportion to the dignity of the persons to whom they were presented. The most costly were those of the value of 26s. 8d., which were given to every prince, duke, and archbishop attending the ceremony, as also to the Lord Chancellor and Treasurer of England. The Keeper of the Privy Seal, the Chief Justices, the Chief Baron of the Exchequer, and every earl and bishop present received one of the value of 20s.; while every baron of Parliament, every abbot, every distinguished prelate (notabili prelato), and every eminent knight there present had one of 13s. 4d. Similar gifts were made to the Keeper of the Rolls of the King's Chancery, and to each of the justices. Rings of inferior value were presented to every baron of the Exchequer, chamberlain, officer, and principal person serving in the King's courts, according to their rank; and thus almost every clerk, especially if he were of the Common Pleas, obtained a share of the new Serjeant's liberality. His private friends were not forgotten, rings being distributed among them also. It has been computed that the sum of 400 marks in 1429 would be equivalent to £2,660 of our present money; hence we need not wonder that lawyers either too poor or too economical to welcome this heavy burden sought to evade the honour. In the time of Henry V. six grave and famous apprentices respectfully declined the elevation, but in vain. They were called before Parliament, and there bidden to take upon them the state and degree of Serjeant. Eventually they did so, and certain of them, as we learn from Sir Edward Coke, worthily served the King in the principal offices of the law.

The reader will not fail to have observed the expression "give gold." This, with the particulars adduced respecting the worth of the rings, suggests that the articles were esteemed, not for their commemorative character or artistic interest, but for their sheer pecuniary value. That this was the case is pretty evident from the fact that, in the reign of Charles II., Lord Chief Justice Kelynge, addressing one of the new Serjeants, rebuked them for their gift of rings weighing no more than 18s. each; and he cited Fortescue as saying, "The rings given to the Chief Justices and the Chief Baron ought to weigh 20s. a-piece." To prevent misunderstanding, he added that he "spoke not this, expecting a recompense," but that it might not be drawn into a precedent. In point of fact, Fortescue refers to value, not weight; but it appears to have been customary to calculate the value of the rings by the worth of their weight in gold.

The creation of Serjeants took place in the hall of the Serjeants' Inn, of which the Lord Chief Justice for the time being was a member. The newly called arrived in a black robe, attended by his clerk, who brought with him on his arm a scarlet hood and a coif. The Chief Justice, having solemnly addressed the Serjeants, began the ceremony of investiture, first placing the coif on the head of each of them and tying it under his chin; and then putting the hood upon his right side and over his right shoulder. The Serjeant thereupon departed, and doffing his black robe assumed a parti-coloured robe of black and murrey (dark red) and hood of the same colours. Thus arrayed he proceeded to Westminster, his man carrying before him the scarlet hood and cornered cap upon it.

Cornered caps were worn by the judges and Serjeants when they attended church in state. Down to the time of the Reformation it was the practice for them to visit St. Thomas of Acons in Cheapside, and, having made their offerings there, to go on to St. Paul's, where they offered at the rood of the north door at St. Erkenwald's shrine. This custom was always observed on the admission of new Serjeants, who set forth on this pious errand after dining. At St. Paul's each of them was appointed to his pillar in the nave of the cathedral by the steward and controller of the feast. It was at the parvise, or porch, of old St. Paul's, or at their allotted pillars, that Serjeants met their clients for consultation. They assisted the rich pur son donaut and the poor for nothing, and there appears to have been no question of any intervention by attorneys. In this connexion it may be worth while to cite the ancient oath which was taken by members of the order:

"You shall swear well and truly to serve the King's people as one of the serjeants-at-law; and you shall truly counsel them that you be retained with after your cunning; and you shall not defer, or delay their causes willingly, for covetousness of money, or other things that may turn you to profit, and you shall give due attendance accordingly; so help you God."

A few months before the Great Fire of London, in which old St. Paul's was consumed with its parvise and pillars, Dugdale wrote: "At St. Paul's each lawyer and serjeant at his pillar heard his client's cause and took notes thereof upon his knee, as they do at Guildhall at this day." He adds: "After the Serjeants' feast ended they do still go to Paul's in their habits, and there choose their pillar whereat to hear their client's cause (if any come) in memory of that old custom."

Naturally, the Order of the Coif was jealous of its distinctions and privileges; and the following incident, for which we are indebted to the late Mr. Serjeant Ballantine, will serve to illustrate the point.

"I have now," he says, "taken my readers back to my old inn. I will venture to surround it with all the halo to which it is entitled. We were, and had from time immemorial been, connected with the Corporation of the City of London, and inasmuch as the greatest compliment appreciated by that august body was annually paid to us, we were doubtless once upon a time of no small importance ourselves. We received an invitation to dine at the Lord Mayor's on November 9, and arrayed in robes that gave us as much claim to notice as men in armour, and, preceded by a personage known as the City Marshal, we were assigned seats amongst the principal guests at that great festival, and it was really a sight worthy of notice....