Rules against working at night or after dark are constantly found in all classes of industries, 'by reason that no man can work so neatly by night as by day.'[751] There was the additional reason that in many trades night work was a source of annoyance to neighbours. This was certainly the case with the blacksmiths,[752] and was probably the cause of the enactment by the Council in 1398, that no leather worker should work by night with hammer and shears, knife or file, at making points or lanyers (laces or thongs).[753] Worst of all these offenders were the spurriers,[754] for 'many of the said trade are wandering about all day without working at all at their trade; and then when they have become drunk and frantic, they take to their work, to the annoyance of the sick and all their neighbourhood.... And then they blow up their fires so vigorously that their forges begin all at once to blaze, to the great peril of themselves and of all the neighbourhood round.' Nuisances of this nature the authorities put down by stringent by-laws, in the same way that they banished offensive occupations, such as the flaying of carcases, the dressing of skins, and the burning of bricks, outside the walls.[755]
A third reason for the prohibition of night work was that candlelight not only made good work more difficult, but made bad work more easy. Not only was it easy to pass off faked leather and other deceitful goods by the uncertain, artificial light, which was one of the causes that moved the Council to try to put down 'evechepyngs,'[756] or evening markets, in London, but it also enabled fraudulent workmen to avoid the eye of the vigilant searcher or inspector.[757] All such evasion and secrecy was rightly regarded as suspicious, and at Bristol, to take a single instance, weavers had to work at looms visible from the public street, and not in cellars or upstair rooms,[758] the better class of furs had also to be worked in public,[759] and ale might not be sold in private.[760] The medieval system of search or inspection was very thorough, in theory and, so far as we can judge, in practice also. The search of weights and measures, provisions, cloth, and tanned leather usually belonged to the mayor or equivalent borough officer, or in country districts to the manorial lord, but usually with other manufactures, and very often in the case of cloth and leather, the mayor deputed the duty of search to members of the craft gilds elected and sworn for that purpose. They could inspect the wares either in the workshops, or when exposed for sale, and seize any badly made articles. The forfeited goods were either burnt or given to the poor,[761] and the offending craftsman fined, set in the pillory, or, if an old offender, banished from the town.[762] To facilitate tracing the responsibility for bad work, weavers, fullers, hatters, metal workers, tile-makers, and other craftsmen, including bakers, were ordered to put their private trademarks on their wares.[763]
The process of search must have been much simplified by the custom so prevalent in medieval towns of segregating or localising the trades,[764] so that all the goldsmiths dwelt in one quarter, the shoemakers in another, the clothiers in a third, and so forth. How far this was compulsory, and how far a mere matter of custom it is hard to say, but for those who in addition to or instead of shops sold by barrows or chapmen, definite districts were usually assigned. So the London shoemakers might only send out their goods to be hawked between Sopers Lane and the Conduit, and then only in the morning,[765] and at Bristol smiths were not to send ironware through the town for sale in secret places, but either to sell 'in here howse opynlych' or else at their assigned place by the High Cross, where also all strangers coming with 'eny penyworthes yclepid smyth ware' were to stand.[766] The principle of segregation was carried out still more strictly, as we might expect, in the markets. A list of the stalls in the provision market at Norwich in 1397[767] shows forty butchers' stalls together, followed by forty-five fishmongers and twenty-eight stalls in the poulterers' market, of which nine were used for fresh fish; then there were fifteen shops belonging to the corporation in the wool-market, and the great building of the 'Worthsted Celd,' to which all worsteds sent in from the country had to be brought.[768] Other trades were localised in the same way, and the two divisions of leather-workers, the cordwainers and the workers of the inferior 'bazan' or sheep's leather, were bidden each to keep to their own set of stalls to prevent confusion and fraud.[769]
As the trades were kept each to its own district, so was the craftsman restricted to his own trade. By a law issued in 1364 artificers were obliged to keep to one 'mystery' or craft,[770] an exception being made in favour of women acting as brewers, bakers, carders, spinners, and workers of wool and linen and silk,—the versatility of woman, the 'eternal amateur,' being thus recognised some five centuries and a half before Mr. Chesterton rediscovered it. Later statutes forbade shoemakers, tanners, and curriers to infringe on each other's province. It is true that at Bristol[771] we find a puzzling regulation that if a man who had not been apprenticed to tanning practises the craft to which he was apprenticed and also uses the craft of tanning, he shall not pay anything to the tanner's craft but to his own craft and his 'maistier servaunt de tanneres-crafte' shall discharge the dues, etc. of a master of the craft. But probably this belongs to the later fifteenth century after the rise of capitalist employers; if not, it is certainly exceptional, the general tendency being to keep trades, and more especially the allied trades, separate, in order presumably to avoid the growth of 'combines' and monopolies. For this reason fishmongers and fishermen were forbidden to enter into partnership in London,[772] because the dealers, knowing the needs of the city, would be able to manipulate supplies and keep up prices. The case against allowing all the branches of one trade to come under single control is vividly set out in the case of the Coventry iron workers in 1435:[773]—
'Be hit known to you that but yif certen ordenaunses of Craftes withein this Cite, and in speciall the craft of wirdrawerz, be takon good hede to, hit is like myche of the kynges pepull and in speciall poor chapmen and Clothemakers in tyme comeng shallon be gretely hyndered; and as hit may be supposed the principall cause is like to be amonges hem that han all the Craft in her own hondes, That is to say, smythiers, brakemen,[774] gurdelmen and cardwirdrawers; for he that hathe all these Craftes may, offendyng his consience, do myche harme. First in the smethyng, yif he be necligent and mysrule his Iron that he wirkithe be onkynd hetes or elles in oder maner, the whiche when hit is so spilt is not to make no maner chapmannes ware of, Neverthelater for his own eese he will com to his Brakemon and sey to hym:—"Here is a ston of rough-iron the whiche must be tendurly cherysshet." And then the Brakemon most nedes do his maisters comaundement and dothe all that is in hym; and then when the Brakemon hathe don his occupacion, that that the mayster supposithe wilnot in no wyse be holpen atte gurdell, then hit shall be solde for hoke wire. And when hit is made in hokes and shulde serve the Fisher to take fisshe, when comythe hit to distresse, then for febulness hit all-to brekithe and thus is the Fissher foule disseyved to hys grete harme. And then that wire that the mayster supposithe will be cherisshed atte gurdell, he shall com to his girdelmon and sey to him as he seid to the brakemon:—"Lo, here is a stryng or ij that hathe ben mysgoverned atte herthe; my brakemon hathe don his dener, I prey the do now thyne." And so he dothe as his maister biddethe hyme. And then he gothe to his cardwirdrawer and seithe the same to hym, and he dothe as his maister biddithe hym. And then when the Cardmaker hathe bought this wire thus dissayvabely wrought he may not know hit tille hit com to the crokyng,[775] and then hit crachithe and farithe foule; so the cardmaker is right hevy therof but neverthelater he sethe because hit is cutte he must nedes helpe hymself in eschuing his losse, he makithe cardes therof as well as he may. And when the cardes ben solde to the clothemaker and shuldon be ocupied, anon the teeth brekon and fallon out, so the clothemaker is foule disseyved. Wherfore, sirs, atte reverens of God in fortheryng of the kynges true lege peapull and in eschueng of all disseytes, weithe this mater wysely and ther as ye see disseyte is like to be, therto settithe remedy be your wyse discressions. For ye may right welle know be experience that and the smythier and the brakemen wern togider, and no mo, and the cardwirdrawers and the middlemen[776] togider, and no mo, then hit were to suppose that ther shuld not so myche disseyvaball wire be wrought and sold as ther is; for and the craft were severed in the maner as hit is seide above, then the cardwirdrawers and the myddelmen most nedes bye the wire that they shull wirche of the smythier, and yif the cardwirdrawer were ones or thies disseyved with ontrewe wire he wolde be warre and then wold he sey unto the smythier that he bought that wire of:—"Sir, I hadde of you late badde wire. Sir, amend your honde, or, in feith, I will no more bye of you." And then the smythier, lest he lost his custumers, wolde make true goode; and then, withe the grase of Godd, the Craft shulde amend and the kynges peapull be not disseyved with ontrewe goode.'
The interests of the craftsmen, or producers, were as a whole opposed to those of the consumers. It is true that they co-operated, as we have seen, with the local authorities in maintaining the standard of workmanship, because the craft that did not do so would soon find itself 'defamed and out of employ,'[777] but it was obviously to their interest to keep up prices by the limitation of competition and of output. Their success in restricting competition varied very greatly in different trades and places. In Lincoln, for instance, no tiler might come to work in the town without joining the tilers' gild,[778] while in Worcester, so far was this from being the case, that the tilers were not even allowed to form a gild at all.[779] As a whole the gilds had the townsmen behind them in their opposition to outsiders. The traditional attitude of the Englishman towards a stranger has always been to 'heave half a brick at him,' and as far back as 1421 the authorities at Coventry had to order 'that no man throw ne cast at noo straunge man, ne skorn hym.'[780] The sense of civic, or even parochial, patriotism was more developed in those times, and it was generally felt that while artificers ought not to work for outsiders unless there was no work to be had within the town, on the other hand, employers ought to give the preference to their fellow townsmen and not send work out of the town.[781] As to encouraging strangers to settle within their walls, sentiment varied in different places. At Beverley in 1467 it was enacted that any person might come and set up in his craft without any payment for the first year—except a contribution towards the church light and the yearly pageant maintained by his craft—but after that he should pay yearly 12d. to the town and 12d. to his craft until he became a burgess and member of the gild.[782] But the attitude of Bristol, where no one might weave unless he became a burgess (and a gild brother) was more typical of the general feeling.[783] There was, however, at Bristol a rule that a stranger who had come to the town on a visit, or to wait for a ship might work at his trade for his support during his stay.[784] This rule did not hold good, apparently, at Hereford, as a London tailor, whose master had allowed him during an outbreak of plague to go and stay with relations in Hereford, was imprisoned by the wardens of the local tailors' gild because he did some tailoring for the cousin with whom he was staying, in order to pay for his keep.[785] At Norwich, by the ordinances of 1449, no 'foreign dweller' might have any apprentices or even a hired servant unless the latter was absolutely necessary for his business, and in that case at the end of a year he must either 'buy himself a freeman,' or, if too poor to buy the franchise, 'live under tribute to the sheriffs.'[786]
One advantage that the resident manufacturer had over the foreigner was that his wares entered the local market without the handicap of paying customs or octroi dues. Long lists of these dues on every conceivable kind of merchandise, from bears and monkeys to peppercorns, are to be found in the records of many towns,[787] more especially seaports. It is true that the burgesses of many towns, and the tenants of many religious houses were theoretically exempt from paying these dues, but it is probable that the delay and worry of proving such exemption was often felt to be a greater loss than payment. So far as the alien importer was concerned, although there was no such thing as a protective duty (the import of an article was either prohibited altogether or unrestrained), he might find himself called upon to pay a higher, even a double, import duty on all his merchandise. This policy of discriminating against the alien, combined with the continual harassing of the unfortunate foreign merchants, induced many alien settlers to take out letters of naturalisation, and the long lists of these in the fifteenth century[788] show how numerous and widespread these aliens were. Coming for the most part from Flanders and the Low Countries, they settled not only in London and the other great towns, but in the smaller market towns and villages throughout the country, exercising their various trades as goldsmiths, clothmakers, leather-workers, and so forth. In London in particular the foreign element was very large from an early date and, as a result of the invitation issued by Edward III. to foreign clothworkers and their exemption from the control of the native clothiers' gild, we have the exceptional occurrence of a gild of alien weavers. This gild, itself divided by the rivalries and quarrels of the Flemings and Brabanters,[789] was unpopular with the native weavers because, while competing with them for trade, they did not share in the farm or rent paid by the native gild to the king, and in general there was a strong feeling against the aliens in London, which was fanned by the craft gilds and occasionally culminated in rioting, the murder of some of the foreigners and the plunder of their shops.
While the gilds were constantly coming into conflict with outside interests, there was also an internal conflict of interests between the masters, the hired servants, or journeymen, and the intermediate class of apprentices. This becomes more noticeable towards the end of our period. While there was occasional friction between employer and employed even before the second half of the fourteenth century, it was during the next two centuries that the rise of the capitalist, coupled with the descent of the small independent masters into the position of journeymen, brought about strained relations between the two classes. In the earlier period in most of the trades there was reasonable prospect for any craftsman that he would be able to set up as an independent master, but as time went on the difficulty of attaining independence increased. The growing attraction of town and craft life as compared with agriculture swelled the ranks of the craftsmen, and the gilds, whose management was in the hands of the masters, endeavoured to limit competition by raising their entrance fees and more especially by raising their 'upsets,' that is to say the fees which had to be paid by a craftsman upon setting up as a master. One of the earliest instances of this restriction of competition occurred in connection with the weavers' gild of London, concerning whom it was reported in 1321 that they had during the last thirty years reduced the number of looms in the city from 380 to 80.[790] In this case the object was to benefit all the members of the gild at the expense of the public, and not to protect existing masters from rivals within the gild, and the method employed was therefore the raising of the fee for entrance to the gild. This same weavers' gild was so far ahead of its times that it had instituted the modern trade unions' restriction of output, no member being allowed to weave a cloth in less than four days, though such a cloth could easily be woven in three if not in two days.[791] But this was a most exceptional move, if not absolutely unique.