People had, moreover, begun now to discuss great social questions. The example of this had been given in England in the celebrated poem of “Piers Ploughman,” in the middle of the fourteenth century, and such questions were mooted very extensively by the Lollards, who held as a principle the natural equality of man. This was a doctrine which was accepted very slowly, and was certainly discountenanced by the Roman Catholic preachers, who encouraged the belief that the division of society into distinct classes was a permanent judgment of God, and even invented legends to account for its origin. Long after feudalism had ceased, it was difficult to disabuse people of the opinion that the blood which flowed in the veins of a gentleman was of a different kind from that of a peasant, or even from that of a burgher. One of the legendary explanations of these divisions of blood is given by a poetical writer of the reign of Henry VII., named Alexander Barclay, who has left us seven “eclogues,” as he calls them, on the social questions which agitated men’s minds in his day. One day, according to this story, while Adam was absent occupied with his agricultural labours, Eve sat at home on their threshold, with all her children about her, when suddenly she became aware of the approach of the Creator, and, ashamed of the great number of them, and fearful that her productiveness might be misinterpreted, she hurriedly concealed those which were the least well-favoured. “Some of them she placed under hay, some under straw and chaff, some in the chimney, and some in a tub of draff; but such as were fair and well made she wisely and cunningly kept with her.” God told her that he had come to see her children, that he might promote them in their different degrees; upon which she presented them in their order of birth. God then ordained the eldest to be an emperor, the second to be a king, and the third a duke to guide an army; of the rest he made earls, lords, barons, squires, knights, and “hardy champions.” Some he appointed to be “judges, mayors, and governors, merchants, sheriffs, and protectors, aldermen, and burgesses.” While all this was going on, Eve began to think of her other children, and, unwilling that they should lose their share of honours, she now produced them from their hiding-places. They appeared with their hair rough, and powdered with chaff, some full of straws, and some covered with cobwebs and dust, “that anybody might be frightened at the sight of them.” They were black with dirt, ill-favoured in countenance, and mishapen in stature, and God did not conceal his disgust. “None,” he said, “can make a vessel of silver out of an earthen pitcher, or goodly silk out of a goat’s fleece, or a bright sword of a cow’s tail; neither will I, though I can, make a noble gentleman out of a vile villain. You shall all be ploughmen and tillers of the ground, to keep oxen and hogs, to dig and delve, and hedge and dike, and in this wise shall ye live in endless servitude. Even the townsmen shall laugh you to scorn; yet some of you shall be allowed to dwell in cities, and shall be admitted to such occupations as those of makers of puddings, butchers, cobblers, tinkers, costard-mongers, hostlers, or daubers.” Such, the teller of the story informs us, was the beginning of servile labour.

A song of the fifteenth century, printed in the collection of songs and carols edited for the Percy Society, the burthen of which is the necessity of money in all conditions, describes the different ranks and their various aspirations in the following order: the yeoman who desires to become a gentleman, the gentleman who seeks to be a squire, the squire who would be a knight, the lettered man who seeks distinction in the schools, the merchant who aspired to rise to wealth, and the lawyer who sought promotion at the bar. In the interesting “Recueil de Poésies Françoises des xve et xvie siècles,” by M. de Montaiglon (vol. iii. pp. 138, 147), there are two poems, probably of the latter part of the fifteenth century, entitled Les Souhaitz des Hommes (the wishes of the men) and Les Souhaitz des Femmes (the wishes of the women), in which the various classes are made to declare that which they desire most. Thus dukes, counts, and knights desire to be skilful in warlike accomplishments; the president in parliament desires the gold chain and the seat of honour, with wisdom in giving judgment; the advocate wishes for eloquence in court, and for a fair bourgeoise or damoiselle at home to make his house joyful; the burgher wishes for a good fire in winter, and a good supply of fat capons; and the clergy are made to wish for good cheer and handsome women. The wishes of the women are on the whole, perhaps, more characteristic than those of the men. Thus, the queen wishes to be able to love God and the king, and to live in peace; the duchess, to have all the enjoyments and pleasures of wealth; the countess, to have a husband who was loyal and brave; the knight’s lady, to hunt the stag in the green woods; the damoiselle, or lady of gentle blood, also loved hunting, and wished for a husband valiant in war; and the chamber-maiden took pleasure in walking in the fair fields by the river-side; while the bourgeoise loved above all things a soft bed at night, with a good pillow, and clean white sheets. That part of society which now comes chiefly under our notice had fallen into two classes, that which boasted gentle blood, and the ungentle, or burgher class, and this was particularly shown among the ladies, for the bourgeoise sought continually to imitate the gentlewoman, or damoiselle, who, on her part, looked on these encroachments of the other with great jealousy. M. de Montaiglon has printed in the collection just quoted (vol. v. p. 5) a short poem entitled, “The Debate between the Damoiselle and the Bourgeoise,” in which the exclusive rights of gentle blood are strongly claimed and disputed. We have seen the same ambition of the wives of burghers and yeomen to ape the gentlewoman as far back as the days of Chaucer, and it now often becomes a subject of popular satire. Yet we must not forget that this desire to imitate higher society assisted much in refining the manners of the middle classes. M. de Montaiglon (vol. ii. p. 18) has printed a short piece in verse of the latter part of the fifteenth century, entitled the “Doctrinal des Filles,” containing the sentiments which teachers sought to implant in the minds of young ladies, and it will suit England at that time equally with France. The young ladies are here recommended to be bashful; not to be forward in falling in love; to pay proper attention to their dress, and to courteousness in behaviour; and not to be too eager in dancing. From all that we gather from the writers of the time, the love of dancing appears at this period to have been carried to a very great degree of extravagance, and to have often led to great dissoluteness in social manners, and the more zealous moralists preached against the dance with much earnestness. The author of our “Doctrinal” admonishes the young unmarried girl to dance with moderation when she is at the “carol” (the name of the ordinary dance), lest people who see her dancing too eagerly should take her for a dissolute woman— Fille, quant serez en karolle,
Dansez gentiment par mesure,
Car, quant fille se desmesure,
Tel la voit qui la tient pour folle.
The young lady is next cautioned against talking scandal, against believing in dreams, against drinking too much wine, and against being too talkative at table. She was to avoid idleness, to respect the aged, not to allow herself to be kissed in secret (kissing in public was the ordinary form of salutation), and not to be quarrelsome. She was especially to avoid being alone with a priest, except at confession, for it was dangerous to let priests haunt the house where there were young females— Fille, hormis confession,
Seullette ne parlez à prebstre;
Laissez-les en leur eglise estre,
Sans ce qu’ilz hantent vos maisons.
These lines, written and published in a bigoted Roman Catholic country, by a man who was evidently a staunch Romanist, and addressed to young women as their rule of behaviour, present perhaps one of the strongest evidences we could have of the evil influence exercised by the Romish clergy on social morals, a fact, however, of which there are innumerable other proofs.

Whatever may have been the effect of such teaching on the better educated classes, the general character of the women of the middle and lower classes appears to have been of a description little likely to be conducive to domestic happiness. All the popular materials for social history represent their morals as being very low, and their tempers as overbearing and quarrelsome, the consequence of which was a separation of domestic life among the two sexes after marriage, the husbands, when not engaged at their work or business, seeking their amusement away from the house, and the wives assembling with their “gossips,” often at the public taverns, to drink and amuse themselves. In the old mysteries and morality plays, in which there was a good deal of quiet satire on the manners of the age in which they were composed and acted, Noah’s wife appears often as the type of the married woman in the burgher class, and her temper seems to have become almost proverbial. In the “Towneley Mysteries,” when Noah acquaints his wife with the approach of the threatened deluge, and of his orders to build the ark, she abuses him so grossly as a common carrier of ill news, that he is provoked to strike her; she returns the blow, and they have a regular battle, in which the husband has the advantage, but he is glad to escape from her tongue, and proceed to his work. In the “Chester Mysteries,” Noah’s wife will not go into the ark; and when all is ready, the flood beginning, and the necessity of taking her in apparent, she refuses to enter, unless she is allowed to take her gossips with her:— Yea, sir, sette up youer saile,
And rowe fourth with evill haile,
For withouten fayle
I will not oute of this towne,
But I have my gossippes everyechone (every one)
One foote further I will not gone (go).
They shall not drowne, by Sante John,
And I maye save ther life!
They loven me full wel, by Christe!
But thout lett them into they cheiste,
Elles (otherwise) rowe nowe wher the leiste (where you like),
And gette thee a newe wiffe.
It is to be supposed that Noah, when he wanted her, had found her with her gossips in the tavern. At last, Noah’s three sons are obliged to drag their mother into the “boat,” when a scene occurs which appears thus briefly indicated in the text,— Noye.
Welckome, wiffe, into this botte!
Noye’s Wiffe.
Have thou that for thy note! [She beats him.]
Noye.
Ha, ha! marye, this is hotte!
It is good for to be still.
The conversation of these “gossips,” when they met, was loose and coarse in the extreme, and, as described in contemporary writings, the practice even of profane swearing prevailed generally among both sexes to a degree which, to our ears, would sound perfectly frightful—it was one of the vices against which the moralists preached most bitterly. Life, indeed, in spite of its occasional refinement in the higher ranks of society, was essentially coarse at this period, and we can hardly conceive much delicacy of people who dieted as, for instance, the family of the earl of Northumberland are reported to have done in the household book, compiled in 1512, which was published by bishop Percy. I only give the breakfast allowances, which, on flesh-days, were “for my lord and my lady,” a loaf of bread “in trenchers,” two manchets (loaves of fine meal), one quart of beer (or, as we should now call it, ale), a quart of wine, half a chine of mutton, or a chine of beef boiled; for “my lord Percy and Mr. Thomas Percy” (the two elder children), half a loaf of household bread, a manchet, one pottle of beer (two quarts—they were not yet allowed wine), a chicken, or else three mutton bones boiled; “breakfasts for the nurcery, for my lady Margaret and Mr. Ingram Percy” (who in fact were mere children), a manchet, one quart of beer, and three mutton bones boiled; for my lady’s gentlewomen, a loaf of household bread, a pottle of beer, and three mutton bones boiled, or else a piece of beef boiled. It will be seen here that the family dined two to a plate, or mess, as was the usual custom in the middle ages. On fish-days, the breakfast allowances were as follows: for my lord and my lady, a loaf of bread in trenchers, two manchets, a quart of beer, a quart of wine, two pieces of salt fish, six baked herrings, or a dish of sprats; for the two elder sons, half a loaf of household bread, a manchet, a pottle of beer, a dish of butter, a piece of salt fish, a dish of sprats, or three white (fresh) herrings; for the two children in the nursery, a manchet, a quart of beer, a dish of butter, a piece of salt fish, a dish of sprats, or three white herrings; and for my lady’s gentlewomen, a loaf of bread, a pottle of beer, a piece of salt fish, or three white herrings. We shall be inclined, in comparing it with our modern style of living, to consider this as a very substantial meal to begin the day with.

According to the old moral and satirical writers, excessive greediness in eating had become one of the prevailing vices of this age. Barclay, in his “Eclogues,” gives a strange picture of the bad regulations of the tables at the courts of great people, in the time of Henry VII. He describes the tables as served in great confusion, and even as covered with dirty table-cloths. The food he represents as being bad in itself, and often ill-cooked. Everybody, he says, was obliged to eat in a hurry, unless he would lose his chance of eating at all, and they served the worst dishes first, so that when you had satiated yourself with food which was hardly palatable, the dainties made their appearance. This led people to eat more than they wanted. When an attractive dish did make its appearance, it led literally to a scramble among the guests:— But if it fortune, as seldome doth befall,
That at beginning come dishes best of all,
Or (before) thou hast tasted a morsell or twayne,
Thy dish out of sight is taken soon agayne.
Slowe be the servers in serving in alway,
But swifte be they after taking thy meate away.
A speciall custome is used them among,
No good dish to suffer on borde to be longe.
If the dish be pleasaunt, eyther fleshe or fishe,
Ten handes at once swarme in the dishe;
And if it be fleshe, ten knives shalt thou see
Mangling the flesh and in the platter flee;
To put there thy handes is perill without fayle,
Without a gauntlet or els a glove of mayle.
It would thus seem that the servers left the guests, except those at the high table, to help themselves. It appears that in the earlier part of the sixteenth century, the English had gained the character of keeping the most profuse tables, and being the greatest eaters, in Europe. A scrap preserved in a manuscript of the reign of Henry VIII., and printed in the “Reliquiæ Antiquæ” (vol. i. p. 326), offers rather a curious excuse for this character. There was a merchant of England, we are told, who adventured into far countries, and when he had been there a month or more, a great lord invited this English merchant to dinner. And when they were at dinner, the lord wondered that he eat not more of his meat, for, said he, “Englishmen are called the greatest feeders in the world, and it is reported that one man will eat as much as six of another nation, and more victuals are consumed there than in any other region.” “It is true,” the merchant replied, “it is so, and for three reasonable causes so much victual is served on the table; one of which is, for love, another, for physic, and the third, for dread. Sir, as concerns the first, we are accustomed to have many divers meats for our friends and kinsfolk, because some love one manner of meat, and some another, and we wish every man to be satisfied. Secondly, in regard of physic, because for divers maladies which people have, some men will eat one meat, and some another, it is desirable that everybody should be suited. The third cause is for dread; for we have so great abundance and plenty in our realm, of beasts and fowls, that if we should not kill and destroy them, they would destroy and devour us.” It may be remarked that, during this period, the English merchants and burghers in general seem to have kept very good tables, and that the lower orders, and even the peasantry, appear to have been by no means ill fed.

The confusion in serving at table described by Alexander Barclay was no doubt caused in a great measure by the numerous troops of riotous and unruly serving men and followers, who were kept by the noblemen and greater land-holders, and who formed everywhere one of the curses of society. Within the household, they had become so unmanageable that their masters made vain attempts to regulate them; while abroad they were continually engaged in quarrels, often sanguinary ones, with countrymen or townsmen, or with the retainers of other noblemen or gentlemen, in which their masters considered that it concerned their credit to support and protect them, so that the quarrels of the servants became sometimes feuds between their lords. The old writers, of all descriptions, bear witness to the bad conduct of serving men and servants in general, and to their riotousness, and especially of the garçons, or, as they were called in English, “lads.” Cain’s garcio, in the “Towneley Mysteries,” was intended as a picture of this class, in all their coarseness and vulgarity; and the character of Jak Garcio, in the play of “The Shepherds,” in the same collection, is another type of them.

We have seen that the breakfast in the household of the Percys was a very substantial meal, but it seems not to have been generally considered a regular meal, either as to what was eaten at it, or as to the hour at which it was taken. Perhaps this was left to the convenience, or caprice, of individuals.[53] We have a curious description of the division of the occupations of the day in a princely household, in an account which has been left us of the household regulations of the duchess of York, mother of king Edward IV., which, however, were strongly influenced by the pious character of that princess, who spent much time in religious duties and observances. Her usual hour of rising was seven o’clock, when she heard matins; she then “made herself ready,” or dressed herself, for the occupations of the day, and when this was done, she had a low mass in her chamber. After this mass, she took something “to recreate nature,” which was, in fact, her breakfast, though it is afterwards stated that it was not a regular meal. She then went to chapel, and remained at religious service until dinner, which, as we are further told, took place, “upon eating days,” at eleven o’clock, with a first dinner in the time of high mass for the various officers whose duty it was to attend at table; but, on fasting days, the dinner hour was twelve o’clock, with a later dinner for carvers and waiters. After dinner, the princess devoted an hour to give audience to all who had any business with her; she then slept for a quarter of an hour, and then spent her time in prayer until the first peal of even-song (vespers), when “she drank wine or ale at her pleasure.” She went to chapel, and returned thence to supper, which, on eating days, was served at five o’clock, the carvers and servers at table having supped at four. The ordinary diet in the house of this princess appears to have been extremely simple. On Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday, the household was served at dinner with beef and mutton, and one roast; at supper with “leyched” beef and roast mutton; on Monday and Wednesday, they had boiled beef and mutton at dinner, and at supper, the same as on the three other days; on Friday, salt fish and two dishes of fresh fish; and on Saturday, salt fish, one fresh fish, and butter, for dinner, and salt fish and eggs for supper. After supper, the princess “disposed herself to be familiar with her gentlewomen,” with “honest mirth;” and one hour before going to bed she took a cup of wine, went to her privy closet to pray, and was in bed by eight o’clock.

The duchess of York is of course to be looked upon as a model of piety and sobriety, and her hours are not perhaps to be taken as exactly those of other people, and certainly not her occupations. In the French “Débat de la Damoiselle et de la Bourgeoise,” the latter accuses the gentlewoman of late rising. “Before you are awake,” she says, “I am dressed and have attended to my duties; do not therefore be surprised if we are more diligent than you, since you sleep till dinner-time.” “No,” replies the damoiselle, “we must spend our evening in dancing, and cannot do as you, who go to bed at the same time as your hens.”

No. 265. Lady at her Distaff.

It has been stated already that, even in the highest ranks of society, the ladies were usually employed at home on useful, and often on profitable work. This work embraced the various processes in the manufacture of linen and cloth, as well as the making it up into articles of dress, and embroidery, netting, and other similar occupations. The spinning-wheel was a necessary implement in every household, from the palace to the cottage. In 1437, John Notyngham, a rich grocer of Bury St. Edmunds, bequeathed to one of his legatees, “j spynnyng whel et j par carpsarum,” meaning probably “a pair of cards,” an implement which is stated in the “Promptorium Parvulorum” to be especially a “wommanys instrument.” A few years previously, in 1418, Agnes Stubbard, a resident in the same town, bequeathed to two of her maids, each, one pair of wool-combs, one “kembyng-stok” (a combing-stock, or machine for holding the wool to be combed), one wheel, and one pair of cards; and to another woman a pair of wool-combs, a wheel, and a pair of cards. John Baret, of Bury, in 1463, evidently a rich man with a very large house and household, speaks in his will of a part of the house, or probably a room, which was distinguished as the “spinning house.” Our cut [No. 265], from an illuminated Bible of the fifteenth century in the Imperial Library at Paris (No. 6829), represents a woman of apparently an ordinary class of society at work with her distaff under her arm. The next cut ([No. 266]) is taken from a fine illuminated manuscript of the well-known French “Boccace des Nobles Femmes,” and illustrates the story of “Cyrille,” the wife of king Tarquin. We have here a queen and her maidens employed in the same kind of domestic labours. The lady on the left is occupied with her combs, or cards, and her combing-stock; the other sits at her distaff, also supported by a stock, instead of holding it under her arm; and the queen, with her hand on the shuttle, is performing the final operation of weaving.