“(1) What is a Rogue and who is to be accounted a Vagabond?
“(2) What is to be done unto them?”
The charming impersonal technical spirit of this little work is beyond all praise. Not a word is ever used to remind you that, after all, a rogue and a vagabond is a man and a brother. You are taught first to diagnose him as Izaak Walton would teach the young angler how to discover the singling that did not usually stir in the daytime, and having captured your rogue and vagabond, you are then enlightened as to the various methods of killing or curing him.
And first you are to note that all persons above the age of seven, man or woman, married or single, that wander abroad without a lawful passport and give no good account of their travel are accounted rogues. Then follows a very lengthy list of such as are “of a higher degree and are to be accounted as Rogues, Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars.” Such are all Scholars and Sea-faring men that beg, wandering persons using unlawful games, subtle crafts, or pretending to have skill in telling of fortunes by the marks or figures on the hands or face, Egyptians or Gypsies. All Jugglers or Slight-of-hand Artists pretending to do wonders by virtue of Hocus Pocus, the Powder of Pimper le Pimp, or the like; all Tinkers, Pedlars, Chapmen, Glassmen, especially if they be not well known or have a sufficient testimonial. All collectors for Gaols or Hospitals, Fencers, Bearwards, common players of interludes, and Fiddlers or Minstrels wandering abroad. Also Persons delivered out of Gaols who beg their fees, such as go to and from the Baths and do not pursue their License, Soldiers and Mariners that beg and counterfeit certificates from their commanders. And, lastly: “All Labourers which wander abroad out of their respective Parishes, and refuse to work for wages reasonably taxed, having no Livelyhood otherwise to maintain themselves, and such as go with general Passports not directed from Parish to Parish.”
In a word, all the unfortunate poor who would not do as they were told by their pastors and masters and wanted to work and amuse themselves in their own way were rogues and vagabonds. And it is not without interest to run your eye over this list, for the statutory rogue and vagabond is still with us and our Poor Law of to-day suffers from its direct hereditary connection with the Poor Law of the eighteenth century.
The duty of “The Compleat Constable” was, in the words of Dogberry, to “comprehend all vagrom men” and he was liable to a fine of ten shillings for every neglect. Moreover, if you were a stalwart fellow, you could apprehend your own rogue and vagabond and hand him over to the constable, who was bound to receive him.
Having dealt in accurate detail with the classification and identification of rogues, we come next to the chapter on treatment, which is best given in the simple words of the original. “The Punishment is after this manner. The Constable, Headburrough or Tythingman assisted by the Minister and one other of the Parish, is to see (or do it himself), That such Rogues and Vagabonds, etc., be stript Naked from the middle upwards and openly Whipped till their Body be bloody and then forthwith to be sent away from Constable to Constable, the next straight way to the place of their Birth; and if that cannot be known then to the place where they last Dwelt, by the space of one whole Year before the time of such their Punishment; and if that cannot be known then to the Town through which they last passed unpunished.” If, however, none of these habitats was discoverable, the vagrom man was sent to the house of correction or common gaol, where he was put to hard labour for twelve months.
It is only fair to remember, “that after such Vagabond is whipt as aforesaid he is to have a Testimonial”—is this the origin of people asking for testimonials?—“under the Hand and Seal of the Constable or Tything-man and the Minister testifying the day and place of his Punishment; as also the place to which he is to be conveyed, and the time limited for his own Passage thither: And if by his own default he exceed that time then he is again to be whipt—and so from time to time till he arrive at the place limited.”
In the good old days of Merrie England the chief entertainment of the villagers must have been to crowd round the stocks and the whipping post on the village green—some of which are existing to this day—just as their city cousins swarmed along the road to Tyburn. And if you had suggested that the players or the fiddlers were a more wholesome amusement for the people than these cruel sights, you would not only have shocked the minister but would have rendered yourself liable to be treated as a vagrom man and to receive a testimonial from the constable. It is easy to-day to see the wrongdoing of much of this, but it was not to be expected that the citizens of the time should see any evil in the everyday cruelties they were used to. The law seems to have been hard on the poor then, but very few worried about it.
History is constantly showing us that in matters touching the imperfections of our own system of law we are colour blind to the cruelties we commit ourselves and easily moved to indignation by the horrors and wickednesses committed by foreigners, especially if they are foreigners who have never known the blessings of the particular religion we profess. When Fynes Moryson was travelling in Turkey at the end of the sixteenth century, he set down with reasonable detestation some of the gruesome things he observed. “Touching their Corporal and Capital Judgments,” he writes: “For small offences they are beaten with cudgels on the soles of the feet, the bellies and backs, the strokes being many and painful according to the offence or the anger of him that inflicts them. Myself did see some hanging and rotting in chains upon the gallows.”