Dress, Music and Fighting: 11th-century life through the eyes of an Anglo-Saxon artist (Part I - Dress)

by Christopher Monk

How should we imagine life back in early medieval England (pre-1066)?  What did people look like?  What did they believe?  What did they do to ‘hang out’, as one historical fiction writer put it to me recently?

There are, of course, written historical records upon which we can draw.  We have laws, charters and wills, for example – written from as early as 600 in the case of the Kentish laws of Ethelbert – from which we may tease out details about everyday life.  We also have the rich archaeological record from the Anglo-Saxon period (c.450-c.1066), which furnishes us with many a revelation, be they somewhat tantalising at times.

Not to be overlooked as a resource is the art of the period.  As a specialist in Anglo-Saxon cultural history, I’ve found it immensely rewarding to explore the world of the early English peoples through the illustrated pages of their books.  My favourite manuscript for doing this is the Old English Illustrated Hexateuch.  Let me tell you something about it, and let us see what insights it might bring to our understanding of life back in the eleventh century.

The Hexateuch goes by the official ‘shelfmark’ of London, British Library, Cotton Claudius B.iv.  To see it in the flesh, then, you would need to go to the British Library, though it’s extremely unlikely that it would be made available for your perusal at leisure.  Fortunately, we can see it online, as the Library has made it available in full as one of its digitised manuscripts (a link is provided at the end).  And what’s particularly exciting is that we can zoom in really close to examine the detail.

The Hexateuch was produced around 1020-40, so towards the end of the Anglo-Saxon period, very probably during the reign of King Cnut (reigned 1016-35).  Its origin is likely the St Augustine’s monastery at Canterbury.  The Hexateuch combines both a textual and visual treatment of the first six books of the Bible, Genesis through to Judges.  It is essentially a picture book – certainly the design of the book focused on the illustrations – accompanied by vernacular (Old English [OE]) translations and paraphrases of Jerome’s Latin Vulgate bible.

To the modern eye, it resembles a comic book.  The pictures closely follow the order of the text but they dominate the pages, there being 394 framed illustrations in total.  Furthermore, they frequently amplify the text, revealing emotions, tensions and scenarios not always evident in the words themselves.  What is key for our purposes is that the artist draws upon contemporary life in order to bring the lives of the patriarchs and the Israelites into sharp focus.  

Let us have a look at just a handful of pictorial scenes to see what they reveal about life in eleventh-century England.  And hopefully that will help us all appreciate that we have another resource in which our imagining of the Anglo-Saxons can be rooted.

Dapper dressers

So what did the Anglo-Saxons look like?  How did they dress, for example?

First, I should point out that we need to show care when interpreting art.  To illustrate: when God or angelic messengers appear in the Hexateuch, they are depicted in classical garb, thus we have a nod to Roman culture rather than a representation of what figures of authority in the period would have gone around wearing.  And I should also make the observation that colour is not always used in a realistic way by the artist.  So, for example, please don’t think that blue rinses were in fashion!

One of my favourite images for demonstrating male attire is the one here of four ‘unrighteous’ men in the days of Noah before the Flood.  They are probably meant to represent the giants or ‘entas’* who were born from the miscegenation of ‘the sons of God’ and ‘the daughters of men’ (Genesis 6:1-8)

They wear the ubiquitous long-sleeved short tunic, along with a cloak fastened by a brooch, either at the shoulder or centrally (the majority of men are shown wearing it at the shoulder).  

Elsewhere men are shown without cloaks or with shorter versions than you see here.  Sometimes we also see men with longer tunics, often kings or pharaohs, though these are also very often shown on men who are seated and so perhaps the artist is concerned with preserving modesty rather than wishing to indicate actual length. 

Though the vast majority of tunics are plain, nevertheless we do come across a significant number of tunics with decorated edging, very similar to those worn by the two central figures.  As you see, these fringes run along the bottom and partway up the sides of the garment.  This may indicate that some tunics had side slits, similar to those on Joseph’s famous ‘coat of many colours’, depicted later – although Joseph’s garment lacks an embellished edging.  Incidentally, the ‘technicolour dreamcoat’ is not shown as truly multi-coloured because the artist is following the slightly odd OE translation – hringfag, meaning ‘ring-patterned’ – of the Latin polymita, meaning ‘cloth woven from threads of many colours’. 

These decorative edges, or fringes, may be representative of embroidery, and would likely have been worn by men of some note, not by ordinary ceorls (free-men of low rank) and certainly not by slaves.  Indeed, in the Hexateuch they appear on men from important families, such as Joseph’s brothers, who as you see here are shown with golden edging on their tunics. 

It would seem, then, that if you really wanted to look the dapper man about town in the eleventh century, you needed embroidered garments.  Maybe it might catch on today? 

I’m afraid that’s all I have space for in this post concerning dress.  There was so much more that could have been said about both male and female dress, too, which brings me to a core area of my present research: women in Anglo-Saxon culture.

For my second detail from the Hexateuch, I want to focus on a particular ‘female’ skill, and in doing so throw something out there that may cause a stir.  Now, I bet you’re thinking weaving, spinning or embroidery, aren’t you?  Well, I’m not going there; instead we’re going to look at women as musicians. And then it will be back to the men for my final insight from the Hexateuch.  And what is it in Anglo-Saxon culture that men did best?  All you living history performers know, don’t you?  Yes, fighting, of course.  

[These will be published in Part 2 - Music and Fighting - on Saturday (27th August)]

*Tolkien fans will recognise the origin here of his giant tree-beings, the ‘ents’.

Works consulted:

Graham Lawson and Susan Rankin, ‘Music’, and Graeme Lawson, ‘Musical Instruments’, from The Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Anglo-Saxon England, ed. Michael Lapidge et al. (Blackwell, 2001). 

Gale R. Owen-Crocker, Dress in Anglo-Saxon England: Revised and enlarged edition (Boydell, 2004)

Dorothy Whitelock (ed.), English Historical Documents c. 500-1042 (Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1955)

Online:

Bosworth-Toller Anglo-Saxon Dictionary: http://bosworth.ff.cuni.cz/

Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British Sources: http://logeion.uchicago.edu/

Douay-Rheims Bible:  http://www.drbo.org/

The Old English Illustrated Hexateuch: http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/BriefDisplay.aspx: Just type ‘hexateuch’ into the search box.

Dr Christopher Monk taught for four years at the University of Manchester (UK) on subjects ranging from the language and history of Beowulf to sex and sexuality in Anglo-Saxon art.  He now works as an independent consultant and development editor.  Recently he was the medieval history and manuscript expert for a major permanent exhibition at Rochester Cathedral (due to open later in 2016) about one of Britain’s most important, but overlooked, medieval books, the twelfth-century Textus Roffensis.  Chris continues to juggle scholarly work with creative writing.  He has just published a chapter in a collection of essays about the Bayeux Tapestry, and has an eBook under review called Sodom in the Anglo-Saxon Imagination.  But he’s also written a screenplay based in 1978 about a Kate Bush obsessive and is presently writing what he describes as “a sort of historical fantasy prequel to Beowulf”. He blogs as the transhistorical Anglo-Saxon Monk.

Find him At his website

and On his blog

Giveaway - the Lady of the Highway by Deborah Swift

Deborah Swift is giving away a copy of The Lady of the Highway:

England 1651 
The English Civil War is over, but the wounds of the conflict are still raw.
Young Lady Katherine Fanshawe is determined to save her inheritance from the grasping hands of the authorities, and build a brighter future for herself.
Although Kate knows it is dangerous, she invites her rebel friends to live and work at Markyate Manor.
But her plans are quickly blown apart when, after months of hard work, her stepfather returns unexpectedly, and evicts them all without pay.
Kate's friends are bitter and turn against her, accusing her of being cursed and a bringer of misfortune.
Desperate to regain their sympathy and trust, she turns to highway robbery to pay them back.
But Kate is not the only highway thief on the road, and her rival is intent on bloodshed and murder.
Soon the local constable is hot on her trail for crimes she did not commit.
Just when Kate thinks things can't get worse, another secret begins to reveal itself - a secret that threatens her very life.

In this struggle against her loveless family, militant authorities and an unforgiving winter, will Lady Katherine's birth right turn out to be a blessing or a curse?

To enter, leave your contact details below. Giveaway closes midnight Sunday 28th August

Coat of Arms Tell a Story

by Samantha Wilcoxson

The medieval coat of arms was a source of pride for its owner, not only identifying them with its unique design but telling a story of their achievements and ancestry. The differentiations added with each generation and family member who used a coat of arms increased its complexity and put their individual touch upon the family story. The example of Margaret Pole’s coat of arms is an excellent study in the intricacies of heraldry.

Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury
Coat of Arms

As you can see, Margaret had good reason to be proud of her heritage and her own position as Countess of Salisbury. Each color, line, and image within this breathtaking coat of arms has a particular meaning. By looking at each element we can learn much about the lady herself.

Let’s start by looking at the top left quarter of Margaret’s shield. This undoubtedly is familiar as the quartered Plantagenet lions and French fleur-de-lis had been used since the reign of Edward III, the monarch whose many descendants would cause the Wars of the Roses that created so much upheaval for Margaret and countless others. He was the first to take England’s three lions and combine them with the banner of the French throne.  Each of the monarchs since Edward III’s time had included this in their coat of arms, and Margaret’s children kept this intact in their own shields.

George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence
Coat of Arms

The field of red, or gules as it is referred to in heraldry, indicates the status of a warrior or one who is eager to serve, while France’s azure (blue) represents loyalty and strength. Lions were common features on royal shields, these are in a position of passant guardant with three feet on the ground and head facing the observer. A differentiation on Margaret’s family’s version of the royal arms is the white label, or tournament collar, charged with canton gules (the red marks) which designates it as the shield of the Duke of Clarence, Margaret’s father.

Moving clockwise, we begin to see the many elements that Margaret’s shield takes from her Neville ancestors, who were earls of Warwick, Montagu, Westmoreland, and Salisbury. The gules field is repeated in the square included from the Nevilles of Middleham. From the late 13^th century, this shield was in place for this noble family when it was first used by Ralph Neville, 1^st Baron de Raby. 

The label charged with canton azure was added by Richard Neville, earl of Salisbury, to differentiate between family branches. Salisbury passed on this element to his son, the infamous Earl of Warwick, later known as the kingmaker. It is found on the coat of arms of Margaret Pole because her mother was Warwick’s daughter. She also was restored her great-grandfather’s title to the earldom of Salisbury by Henry VIII.

Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick
Coat of Arms

Many other elements of Margaret’s shield also come from that of her grandfather, which combines several items from his family’s various earldoms. The Howorth crosslets and field of chequed gold and azure with the chevron of ermine are evidence of his inheritance from his father-in-law. Richard de Beauchamp passed along the Warwick earldom to Richard Neville through the former’s daughter and latter’s wife, Anne Beauchamp. This portion of the shield finds its roots in de Clare family arms, ancestors of the Beauchamps. They were added by Warwick to the eagle and series of three red fusils that were featured on Warwick’s father’s shield, combining key features of the many noble names and titles he could lay claim to.

The final eighth of Margaret’s coat of arms is taken directly from her grandfather’s lower right quarter. The red chevronels on gold quartered with gold fret on red indicate Despenser family heritage, also through Warwick’s wife, Anne Beauchamp.

Henry Pole, Lord Montagu
Coat of Arms

A brief analysis of Margaret Pole’s coat of arms makes clear how quickly family connections and titles cause the evolution of a shield. Each person who passed on a particular element to be marshalled into Margaret’s shield had very particular reasons for choosing the colors and images that may simply seem eye-catching and romantic to us.

The Warwick chequed azure and gold would have been chosen due to a deep respect for virtue and loyalty. The white chevron over top of this field charged with ermine indicated a vow to protect and status as a noble family. In the same manner, each of the Montagu fusils were a proud statement of honesty, constancy, and noble birth. When Margaret gazed upon her coat of arms, she would have a resounding sense of the past and all that her family had accomplished before her time. The upper left quarter of her shield especially would have been a constant reminder of her family’s former royal status.

Cardinal Reginald Pole
Coat of Arms

Margaret’s sons carried on their family’s heritage with pride, though theirs did not repeat the complexity of Margaret’s shield.  They took the dukedom of Clarence arms of their mother’s shield quartered with the gold and sable saltire of their father, Sir Richard Pole. The lower half included the Neville saltire and the Warwick crosslets. Henry and Reginald’s coats of arms were identical but crested with indications of their status as an earl and a cardinal.

Sources:

Boutell's Heraldry by CW Scott-Giles & JP Brooke-Little

A Complete Guide to Heraldry by AC Fox-Davies

http://www.europeanheraldry.org/

http://www.familytreesandcrests.com/

All images are in the public domain.

Samantha Wilcoxson is the author of the Plantagenet Embers series, which features the stories of the Plantagenet remnant in Tudor times. The first novel in the series, Plantagenet Princess, Tudor Queen, tells the story of Elizabeth of York, who became the mother of the Tudor dynasty. This book was named an Editor's Choice by the Historical Novel Society and is a Kindle biographical fiction bestseller. Faithful Traitor, also a Kindle bestseller, is the second installment in the series and features the story of Margaret Pole. The final book of the trilogy, Queen of Martyrs: The Story of Mary I will be released in Spring 2017.

Plantagenet Princess, Tudor Queen and Faithful Traitor are available worldwide on Amazon.

Connect with Samantha on her blog or on Twitter.

Editors' Weekly Round-up August 21st

by the EHFA Editors

Enjoy this week's wrap up of posts on the blog:

Little Domesday - Norfolk

by Annie Whitehead

Bed and Breakfast in Seventeenth Century England
by Deborah Swift

"A felicity inexpressible": The Chatham Vase

by Jacqueline Reiter

Saint Wilgils: A Conversion That Goes Beyond Serious
by Kim Rendfeld

Anglesey: The Tudors' Mystical Island
by Nancy Bilyeau

War Crime, or a Strategic Military Decision? 
The Massacre at Acre, August 20, 1191

by Charlene Newcomb
(Editors Choice post from the EHFA Archives)

This week we are also offering a giveaway - Lindsay Downs offers a PDF copy of his new release. This giveaway closes midnight Sunday Pacific Daylight Time.

The Hunt Ends

by Lindsay Downs

War Crime or a Strategic Military Decision? The massacre at Acre, August 20, 1191

by Charlene Newcomb


Surely one of the saddest, most horrible, and notorious events of the Third Crusade occurred on August 20, 1191. When Acre surrendered to Christian forces in July 1191 after a two-year siege, negotiators from within the city agreed to terms that included the return of Christian hostages and a fragment of the True Cross - captured by Saladin at the Battle of Hattin in 1187 - and payment to secure the release of Muslim hostages. Saladin was not involved in the negotiations, and contemporary accounts provide no evidence that the Muslin leader actually agreed to the conditions set on his behalf. There is no doubt Saladin knew the terms and used delay tactics whether to better position his troops or to stall the Christians' march to Jerusalem. In the words of chronicler Geoffrey de Vinsauf, Saladin “sent constant presents and messengers to King Richard to gain delay by artful and deceptive words.” The deadline was extended in hopes Saladin would come through.

What is clear: the terms of the surrender were not met. Twenty-seven hundred hostages were executed under orders issued by Richard the Lionheart.

Richard’s decision has been a cause for debate for centuries. In today’s world, this would be a war crime of huge magnitude. In 12th century warfare, the execution of hostages was not uncommon, though in many situations, hostages were kept under house arrest – sometimes for years –  or sold as slaves.

Richard’s dilemma: where do you house 2,700 hostages? How do you keep them fed when you must feed your own army? How many guards would it take to ensure the captives would not escape? With the departure of King Philip of France, Duke Leopold of Austria, and many of their supporters that summer, Richard needed nearly every able-bodied soldier on the coming pilgrimage to secure Jerusalem.

Why didn’t Richard sell his hostages? That would take time. It was already mid-August. The army needed to begin the march to Jerusalem or else run the risk of being caught by winter storms.

Based on morals and the conduct of war in the 12th century, are these excuses or valid reasons to execute close to 3,000 prisoners?

I was surprised that contemporary observers had very little to say about the executions. It is incredible to read the accounts of wholesale slaughter generally described in such nonchalant terms.

Roger de Hoveden writes:

On the seventeenth day of the month of August, being the third day of the week and the thirteenth day before the calends of September, the king of England caused all the pagans who belonged to him from the capture of Acre to be led out before the army of Saladin, and their heads to be struck off in the presence of all . . .

De Hoveden does provide more detail than most chroniclers and further along that passage he describes what the Christians did to the bodies. It is horrific, and I won't repeat it here. He then continues:

On the twenty-first day of the month of August, after the slaughter of the pagans, the king of England delivered into the charge of Bertram de Verdun the city of Acre. . . On the twenty-second day . . . the king of England crossed the river of Acre with his army, and pitching his tents between that river and the sea, on the sea-shore between Acre and Cayphas, remained there four days.


The chronicler Geoffrey de Vinsauf writes:

. . . 2700 of the Turkish hostages [were] led forth from the city and hanged ; [King Richard's] soldiers marched forward with delight to fulfill his commands, and to retaliate, with the assent of the Divine Grace, by taking revenge upon those who had destroyed so many of the Christians with missiles and arbalests.

Ambroise writes:

Two thousand seven hundred, all

In chains, were led outside the wall,
Where they were slaughtered every one;
And thus on them was vengeance done.
For blows and bolts of arbalest.

Even Muslim contemporary writers have not provided us more than a few sentences about the event. Ibn al-Athir writes that Saladin and his emirs did not trust the Franks (the term used to denote the European Christians). Al-Athir felt that the crusaders intended 'treachery' and would not free the hostages even if Saladin met the demands. Al-Athir then notes:

On Tuesday 27 Rajab [20 August 1191] the Franks mounted up and came outside the city with horse and foot. The Muslims rode out to meet them, charged them and drove them from their position. Most of the Muslims they had been holding were found slain. They had put them to the sword and massacred them but preserved the emirs and captains and those with money. All the others, the general multitude, the rank and file and those with no money they slew.

The chronicler Baha' Al-Din writes:

Then they brought the Muslim prisoners whose martyrdom God had ordained, more than three thousand men in chains. They fell on them as one man and slaughtered them in cold blood, with sword and lance . . .

He is one of few contemporaries who comments on Richard's motives:

Many reasons were given to explain the slaughter. One was that they had killed as reprisal for their own prisoners killed before then by the Muslims. Another was that the King of England had decided to march on Ascalon and take it, and he did not want to leave behind him in the city a large number (of enemy soldiers). God knows best.

Richard justified his actions in a letter to the abbot of Clairvaux. This was war, and Saladin had not met his end of the agreement. Many of Richard's contemporaries and numerous scholars over the years have condemned the Lionheart for his decision. It was a brutal and unchivalrous act. Would Richard's reputation have suffered less if the besieged had chosen to fight to the bitter end? Those sieges did not end well for the losers: pillaging, burning, and killing. But the garrison at Acre had surrendered. Richard sought advice from his council, and seeing no alternatives if he intended to be at Jerusalem's gate before winter set in, he issued the orders.

Sources

Ambroise. The history of the holy war : Ambroise’s estoire de la guerre sainte. (Trans. by Ailes, M., & Barber, M.) Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003.

De Hoveden, R. (1853). The annals of Roger de Hoveden, comprising the history of England and of other countries of Europe from A. D. 732 to A. D. 1201. (Henry T. Riley, Trans.). London: H. G. Bohn. (Original work published 1201?)

"Geoffrey de Vinsauf's itinerary of Richard I and Others, to the Holy Land" in Chronicles of the Crusades: contemporary narratives, compiled and edited by Henry G. Bohm. London: Kegan Paul, 2004.

Gillingham, J. (1978). Richard the Lionheart. New York: Times Books.

Ibn al-Athīr, ʻIzz al-Din. (2007). The chronicle of ibn al-athīr for the crusading period from al-kāmil fi’l-ta’rīkh. (Trans by Richards, D. S.) Aldershot ; Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

Ibn Shaddād, Bahāʼ al-Dīn. (2001) . The rare and excellent history of Saladin, or, al-Nawādir al-Sultaniyya wa’l-Mahasin al-Yusufiyya. (Trans by Richards, D. S.) Aldershot, Hants, England: Ashgate.

Siege of Acre By Blofeld of SPECTRE at en.wikipedia (Transfered from en.wikipedia) [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ASiege_of_Acre.jpg

Richard the Lionheart Merry-Joseph Blondel [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ARichard_coeur_de_lion.jpg

"SaracensBeheaded" by Alphonse-Marie-Adolphe de Neuville - François Guizot (1787-1874), The History of France from the Earliest Times to the Year 1789, London : S. Low, Marston, Searle &

Rivington, 1883, p. 447. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:SaracensBeheaded.jpg#/media/File:SaracensBeheaded.jpg

This post was originally posted on English Historical Fiction Authors on Wednesday, August 19, 2015.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlene Newcomb is the author of Men of the Cross and For King and Country, two historical adventures set during the reign of King Richard I, the Lionheart. For King and Country is an HNS Editors Choice, long listed for the 2017 HNS Indie Award. Men of the Cross was selected as an indieBRAG Medallion honoree in 2014..

Charlene is a member of the Historical Novel Society and a contributor and blog editor for English Historical Fiction Authors. She lives, works, and writes in Kansas. She is an academic librarian by trade, a former U.S. Navy veteran, and has three grown children.


Connect with Char: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon

Anglesey: The Tudors' Mystical Island

by Nancy Bilyeau

View from a cliff on Anglesey Island [wikimedia commons, photo by Eric Jones]

After the army of  Henry Tudor, earl of Richmond, defeated Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth on August 22, 1485, an effort swung into action to make Henry seem as kingly as possible. It wasn't enough that Richard must be seen as the blackest villain ever to draw breath. Henry himself, to hold the throne, must be venerated as royal.

It wasn't going to be easy.

Henry's mother, Margaret Beaufort, was descended from the great John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, and while that gave him the right to call himself a Lancastrian heir, the Beauforts were the children of Gaunt's mistress, Katherine Swynford. True, Gaunt married her after the five children were born and Henry IV had them legitimized. Still, no less than an act of Parliament barred a Beaufort from ever succeeding to the throne. Serious obstacle, that.

Henry VII [wikimedia commons, public domain]

So the Tudor propaganda machine got busy with building up the reputation of the last Lancaster king, Henry VI. In life he suffered complete nervous breakdowns, was led by his relatives and his wife, and would have been far better off as a monk than a king during the vicious family disputes later known as the War of the Roses. In 1471, defeated, he was murdered in the Tower of London by the triumphant Yorks. Some say that he was the worst king of the medieval era.

But Henry VI was the half-brother of Edmund Tudor, father of the new King Henry VII. He was family. Some serious revision was in order.

So in the inaugural pageants of Henry VII, prominence was given to his dead uncle, the "Martir By Great Tormenting." Stories circulated of King Henry VI's miracles, such as curing the blind and saving children from fires. Strenuous efforts were made to persuade the Pope to make Henry VI a saint.

Sainthood notwithstanding, the Tudors' connection to Henry VI was not as straightforward as might seem at first glance. Henry VI's half-brother, Edmund Tudor, did not possess one drop of Plantagenet blood. Edmund's mother was Catherine of Valois--a French princess who was briefly married to Henry V and gave birth to Henry VI--and his father was Catherine's handsome Welsh servant, Owen Tudor. The legend goes that the young widow spotted Owen swimming naked in a river. Catherine secretly married Owen and they had four or five children.

Catherine of Valois marrying first husband Henry V [wikimedia commons]

When he came to the throne, Henry VII's Welsh descent was honored, of course. After all, Henry Tudor and his uncle Jasper (Edmund's younger brother) purposefully landed in Wales with their army and made a popular appeal for support as they marched toward England. The Welsh flocked to his cause, and his army flew the flag of the red dragon of Cadwallader,  the legendary Welsh ruler. After he won the battle, the new King Henry VII proclaimed himself as heir to the 7th century Cadwallader, a new king whose rise was foretold in the misty prophecies of Merlin.

As for the king's far more recent, undoubted Welsh background, not much was said about that. After all, when it was discovered years ago, the secret marriage was an embarrassment. Queens didn't marry their servants. Following the death of Catherine of Valois, her oldest child, Henry VI, committed the non-saintly act of sending his stepfather, Owen Tudor, to Newgate Prison (he was later pardoned and pensioned).

But the Tudor family--which did give its name to England's most memorable dynasty--should not be ignored pre-Bosworth. They were a family of genuine achievement and for centuries they lived on a remarkable island, Anglesey, off the northwest coast of Wales. It was a place of mystical power...and a spirit of ferocious independence.

The beautiful island [wikimedia commons, photo by Stephen Elwyn Roddick]

We learn of Anglesey (its Welsh name is Ynys Môn) through the writings of Roman historians.  Roman rulers feared its occupants. That's right, feared. At its height, the Roman empire controlled land lived on by 50 million people. Yet Anglesey held a special place among the strategies of the caesars.

It was because of the Druids. Anglesey was the last Druid sanctuary.

The revival of the Druid religion in the 18th century confuses our understanding of the original. We may envision robed figures dancing in the moonlight, swathed in wreaths. That's Druids 2.0. The Romans encountered something else.

Julius Caesar fought the Celts for eight years in modern-day France. The Gallic Wars gave him fame and fortune but he didn't win easily. The priestly, educated class of the Celts in France, England and Ireland were the Druids, and he was fascinated by the mysterious spiritual leaders of his adversaries.  Julius Caesar wrote:

"The Druids are in charge of all religious matters, superintending public and private sacrifices, and explaining superstitions....The whole nation of the Gauls is greatly devoted to ritual observances, and for that reason those who are smitten with the more grievous maladies and who are engaged in the perils of battle either sacrifice human victims or vow so to do, employing the druids as ministers for such sacrifices. They believe, in effect, that, unless for a man's life a man's life be paid, the majesty of the immortal gods may not be appeased; and in public, as in private life they observe an ordinance of sacrifices of the same kind. Others use figures of immense size whose limbs, woven out of twigs, they fill with living men and set on fire, and the men perish in a sheet of flame. They believe that the execution of those who have been caught in the act of theft or robbery or some crime is more pleasing to the immortal gods; but when the supply of such fails they resort to the execution even of the innocent."

Whether or not Druids oversaw human sacrifice is hotly debated. Historians long dismissed it as Roman gossip, but recent findings suggest otherwise. "Lindow Man," found in the peat bog of Cheshire, was a young Celtic of high status who was strangled and then had his throat cut, during the first century AD.

What cannot be disputed is that when the Romans struggled to conquer Britain, they targeted the Druids as those who fomented rebellion.  They were 1st Century freedom fighters. The Romans could not subdue the people for long; frustrated, they decided to wipe out the Druids to break the people's spirit. To do that, they must march on Anglesey, the Druid stronghold.

What do we know about the lives of the Druids? Very little. The Druids left no written records. Researchers believe it took twenty years for a student to become a Druid. They honored the winter and summer solstices. The conjecture is that the Druids believed in the immortality of the soul and that after death it found a new body. According to the Museum of Wales, between 300 BC and 100 AD, chariots, weapons, tools and decorated metalwork were cast into a lake at the site of Llyn Cerrig Bach on Anglesey.

Whatever the Druids were doing, the Romans set themselves to wipe it out. Tacitus wrote vividly of the slaughter of Druids on Anglesey, some of them women, led by Roman commander Suetonius Paulinus in 61 AD:

"On the beach stood the adverse array, a serried mass of arms and men, with women flitting between the ranks. In the style of Furies, in robes of deathly black and with dishevelled hair, they brandished their torches; while a circle of Druids, lifting their hands to heaven and showering imprecations, struck the troops with such an awe at the extraordinary spectacle that, as though their limbs were paralysed, they exposed their bodies to wounds without an attempt at movement. Then, reassured by their general, and inciting each other never to flinch before a band of females and fanatics, they charged behind the standards, cut down all who met them, and enveloped the enemy in his own flames."

Menai Straits, where the Romans crossed
[wikimedia commons, photo by Mark Chambers]

Little more is heard of the Druids. Rome did its horrific job. Moreover, as Wales accepted Christianity, the Druids as a priestly class were bound to become extinct, probably by the 7th century.

But for the people who remained on the island, the defiant spirit of Anglesey was not broken. After Rome fell, waves of invasion by Saxons and Vikings took their toll across England. Wales for the most part stayed true to its Celtic origins. (Anglesey was taken by Irish warlords for a time, before throwing them off.) The "Kingdom of Gwynedd" rose in Wales, its rulers declaring themselves "Kings of the Britons," and for several centuries the town of Aberffraw, on Anglesey Island, was this kingdom's power base.

Then came Edward I. 

As far as Anglesey was concerned, the kings of England, first Norman and then Plantagenet, weren't English at all. They spoke French, for starters. The Welsh maintained their independence throughout the rules of families based in far-away London, until Edward I launched war, using strategies nearly as horrific as the Romans. When the last king of Wales, Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, died in battle in 1282, Edward I sent his severed head to London to be displayed, mockingly, with a crown of ivy and then mounted over the gate of the Tower of London. 

It's during this turbulent time that the Tudor name first appears in historical record. For four centuries, the Tudor family served the independent Welsh kings of Gwynedd in high positions, resisted English attempts at subjugation and, even after Edward I's brutalizing wars, continued to support revolt.  Henry Tudor's known ancestor was Edynyfed Fychan ap Cynwrig, a seneschal of Llywelyn the Great in the early 13th century. The Tudor seat on Anglesey was the village of Penmynydd, which means top of the mountain in Welsh. They were undoubtedly a leading family.

The rocky coastline [wikimedia commons, photo by Lesbardd]

So how did Owen Tudor end up working as a servant for a widowed English queen? By the time of his birth, the island of Anglesey was worn down by generations of fighting the English. The Tudors were on the front lines of the latest struggle. Owen's father, Maredudd ap Tudor, and uncles were key combatants in the Glyndŵr Rising, also known as the Last War of Independence. The Tudors were fierce guerrilla fighters during that long revolt, and were left impoverished at its end in 1415. The victorious English crown fined the defeated rebels and seized their land. Seeing no choice, Owen's father took his family off the island.

There is some speculation Owen Tudor fought under Henry V as a soldier at Agincourt and won royal notice that way. After the death of the wife they shared, Catherine of Valois, Owen supported the rights of Henry VI. He was descended from men who rebelled against the English kings for decades. Now he was the stepfather of such a king.

Owen was fighting in the army of his own son, Jasper, when the Lancasters lost to the future Edward IV at the Battle of Mortimer's Cross and he was captured. The Yorkists decided to execute Owen immediately. Shortly before he was beheaded on February 2, 1461, Owen Tudor said, "That hede shalle ly on the stocke that wass wonte to ly on Quene Catheryn's lappe."

When, more than a century later, Queen Elizabeth defied Spain and roused England to defend itself from the Armada, historians see the character of her parents, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, in the Queen's courage and eloquence.

Elizabeth said to her soldiers:

"Let tyrants fear, I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust."

And maybe, just maybe, we can hear in her words an echo of the spirit of the many freedom fighters of Anglesey Island.

Island of Anglesey [wikimedia commons; photo by Lesbardd]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nancy Bilyeau is the author of a trilogy of novels set in 16th century England featuring Dominican novice Joanna Stafford: The Crown, The Chalice and The Tapestry.  The books were published by Touchstone (Simon & Schuster) and are on sale in nine countries. The Crown was an Oprah pick. The Tapestry was a finalist for the Daphne du Maurier Award for Best Historical Romantic Suspense at RWA in 2016. For more information, go to www.nancybilyeau.com.

Saint Wilgils: A Conversion That Goes Beyond Serious

By Kim Rendfeld

Saint Wilgils probably was born a pagan, but once he converted to Christianity, the faith dictated his life.

Wilgils, a householder in Northumbria, was likely born in the 630s, a turbulent time for both politics and religion. King Edwin, who had accepted baptism in 627, supported efforts to convert the population to Christianity, but those efforts were cut short in 633, when Edwin was slain in battle and a pagan was crowned king.

The folk might have seen Edwin’s death as a divine sign to return to their old gods, who determined what side won the war and whether the harvest would be plentiful or meager. Many converts never stopped believing in their pagan deities despite their baptismal vows. Early medieval Christians went to Mass and celebrated holidays, but they maintained pagan rituals, especially for healing or to ensure a good crop.

Then Oswald, a Christian, decided to come out of exile and seize the throne. (Some of you might remember Oswald from a recent EHFA post by Matthew Harffy; a link to his post is in my sources.) Oswald indeed won the kingdom around 634 and believed he owed his victory to Christ. He showed his gratitude by backing missionaries. Saint Aidan was appointed bishop and travelled throughout the country.

King Oswald of Northumbria,
from a circa 1220 manuscript
(public domain,
via Wikimedia Commons)

We can only guess at how the priests’ teachings impressed the young Wilgils. Alcuin’s hagiography of Wilgils’s son, the source of most information, says nothing of Wilgils’s childhood. Perhaps, Wilgils’s family believed Oswald’s God was the stronger deity and decided to accept Christianity.

Wilgils was more devout than the typical Christian. In an age when most people couldn’t read and a Bible cost much more than a herd of sheep, most of the laity understood only what the priests told them and what they could see in the statuary and murals.

If we are to believe Alcuin, Wilgils got married solely to beget “a child who should benefit many peoples.”

Even by early medieval standards, this is an unusual reason to wed. Among aristocrats, marriage was to forge or solidify alliances and increase wealth. For commoners such as Wilgils, families were seeking good in-laws. The family of a daughter sought a fellow who would provide for his wife and kids. The bachelor, or his parents, sought a young woman to take care of the house and rear the children. If husband and wife were fond of each other, that was nice but not the primary reason for the union.

If Wilgils was so moved by religious belief, why didn’t he forgo marriage and join a monastery? Did he find a young woman as zealous as he was?

Alcuin doesn’t tell us much about Wilgils’s wife. Even her name is a mystery. But he says the couple was devout. And, as is common in hagiographies, the woman had a prophetic dream. In this case, she saw the new moon increase to full, and then it fell into her mouth. She swallowed it, and her bosom was suffused with light. She asked a priest for an interpretation and was told the vision meant the son she had conceived that night would bring light to those in the darkness of error and attract the multitudes.

The couple’s son, Willibrord, was born on November 6, 658, or thereabouts. When he was a young boy—the typical age to send a child to school was 7—he was given to the church at Ripon.

Saint Willibrord, photo by Jwh
at Wikipedia Luxembourg (CC BY-SA 3.0 lu,
via Wikimedia Commons)

Were there tears from parents or son? Did the parents have any second thoughts? Were they sad but accepting the will of God? Did this cause a strain on the marriage? The hagiography answers none of these questions. We don’t know if the parents ever saw their son again.

For the parents, the sacrifice went beyond emotions. Sending their son away meant he could not help them cultivate land or raise livestock. Their act, though, was more than religious devotion. Willibrord now had a chance to get an education and set himself on the path to rule a bishopric or abbey.

If Wilgils and his wife’s whole purpose was to bring into the world a holy man who would minister to many, they succeeded. As an adult, Willibrord was called to be a missionary and crossed the Channel.

His parents remained in Britain. Later in life, presumably after his wife died, Wilgils joined a monastery. Perhaps, he was grieving and seeking solace. Or maybe he’d always been drawn to the clergy and was free to pursue it as a widower.

Wilgils embraced the monastic life. More than embraced it. It didn’t take long for him to decide what he really needed was solitude and an even more austere lifestyle. So he probably traveled for days to a promontory where the Humber River meets the North Sea, today’s Spurn Point. There, he became a hermit.

Spurn Point, 1979, photo copyrighted by Stanley Howe
(used under the terms of CC BY-SA 2.0,
via Wikimedia Commons)

In modern times, the spit of land is a nature preserve. The sea side has chalk grassland, sand dunes, and beaches. The estuary has mud flats. It looks like a nice place to visit, but even by early medieval standards, it was far from civilization.

Nevertheless, Wilgils built a chapel and dedicated it to Saint Andrew. He fasted and prayed, but the solitude he longed for proved elusive. People flocked to him, and he instructed them in the faith. He attracted the attention of the king and aristocrats, who donated land in the area so that Wilgils could build a church. At that church, Wilgils started a small but devout community of religious men.

His legacy would be twofold. The religious community would last past his death, and his famous son, Willibrord, would become the apostle of Frisia, preaching in dangerous lands and becoming embroiled in Frankish politics.

Sources

Medieval Sourcebook: Alcuin’s The Life of Saint Willibrord

“The Christians Are Coming! (The Islands of Iona and Lindisfarne)” by Matthew Harffy, English Historical Fiction Authors

England’s North East

Alcuin of York, by George Forrest Browne

The Lost Towns of the Yorkshire Coast, Thomas Sheppard

Visit Hull and East Yorkshire

Kim Rendfeld is the author of two novels set in early medieval Francia and is working on a third. In The Cross and the Dragon, Alda, a young Frankish noblewoman, must contend with a vengeful jilted suitor and the fear of losing her husband in battle. In The Ashes of Heaven's Pillar, Saxon peasant Leova will go to great lengths to protect her children after she's lost everything else.

The Cross and the Dragon was rereleased August 3, 2016, in print and ebook formats. You can order the book at Amazon, Kobo, iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, CreateSpace, and other vendors. The Ashes of Heaven's Pillar will be rereleased in November 2016. Preorders are available at Kobo, Barnes and Noble, and iTunes. It will soon be available on Amazon.

"A felicity inexpressible": The Chatham Vase

by Jacqueline Reiter

The “Chatham Vase” is a sculpture commissioned by Hester, Dowager Countess of Chatham, in 1780-1 to commemorate her husband William Pitt the Elder, First Earl of Chatham. It was sculpted in the shape of a Grecian urn by John Bacon, the same man who designed Chatham’s monument in Westminster Abbey. The urn was erected at Burton Pynsent, Somerset, which Lady Chatham used as her dower house until her death.

The lines on the pedestal (largely weathered away now, but still just about legible) read:

Sacred to pure affection, this simple urn stands a witness of unceasing grief for him who, excelling in whatever is so admirable, and adding to the exercise of the sublimest virtues the sweet charm of refined sentiment and polished wit, by gay social commerce rendered beyond comparison happy the course of domestic life and bestowed a felicity inexpressible on her whose faithful love was blessed in a pure return that raised her above every other joy but the parental one, and that still shared with him. His generous country with public monuments has eternised his fame. This humble tribute is but to soothe the sorrowing breast of private woe.

This tribute was apparently written by Lady Chatham herself, with a little assistance from her son William Pitt the Younger. Pitt wrote to his mother on the subject on 20 April 1780:

All my feelings with regard to the paper enclosed I need not express. I am sure I should be far indeed from wishing to suggest a syllable of alteration. The language of the heart, of such a heart especially, can never require or admit of correction. May it remain as it deserves, a lasting monument of both the subject and the author.[1]

After Lady Chatham died in April 1803, her son John, second Earl of Chatham, was forced to sell Burton Pynsent for financial reasons. He made sure, however, to take the Vase away before selling the property. Where it went after Burton I do not know. Presumably the Vase spent the time packed away in Chatham’s attic. It was not forgotten, though. Richard, Duke of Buckingham and Chandos, the son of Chatham’s cousin the Marquis of Buckingham and Hester Chatham’s great-nephew, wrote to Chatham in March 1831:

My Lord,

I feel that I am taking a great liberty in entering into the subject of this letter and must appeal to your kindness to excuse me for doing so. My veneration for the memory of the great men of the family from which I am descended, must plead my pardon, and I am sure that to no-one can that appeal be more forcibly made than to the Son of the grand Earl of Chatham.

The monument erected by your Mother to her lamented Lord at Burton Pynsent has now no resting place where it can stand a memorial to her Piety and of your Father’s greatness. The want of a male heir should any thing happen to you in the uncertainty of human life, will, unless you will that monument away, leave it—or its value—to be divided amongst Co-Heiresses [presumably a reference to Chatham’s then heirs, Harriot Hester, Lady Pringle and Lady Lucy Taylor]. It ought to stand in some Scene which your Father visited and took interest in, during his life time. Will you allow me to put it up at Stowe? … 

Allow me to press the request upon you, and to express my hope that you will prove that you forgive me by coming this next Summer at Stowe, and then view with your own eyes the Urn placed amidst the Scenes in which your Father past so many of his days.[2]

I personally found that letter astoundingly cheeky—“You’re old and about to peg it, and have no children, so can I have your urn?”—and I don’t know how much eye-rolling Chatham must have done on reading it, but he agreed:

I beg that you will accept my very warmest thanks for the kind manner in which you have acquiesced in my request … With your permission I shall put an Inscription upon a side of the Pedestal different from that on which your Mother’s inscription is engraved, stating how it came to be placed at Stowe, and probably you will not be displeased if I request Lord Grenville to write the Inscription for me.[3]

 Lord Grenville’s inscription reads:

In the year 1831, this interesting memorial of a near and highly venerated relative was, by the kindness of his son John Earl of Chatham, presented to the Duke of Buckingham and Chandos by whom it is here placed in remembrance of the early and long attachment of that great man to these tranquil scenes, and of his close connexion with the family of their proprietors.

Stowe House (Wikimedia Commons)

The Vase, however, did not long remain at Stowe. It was sold at auction in 1848, and where it was between 1848 and 1857 I do not know. In 1857 it was sold again and purchased by James Banks Stanhope, son of James Hamilton Stanhope, who through various very complicated relationships was related to both the Grenvilles and the Pitts, and placed at Revesby Hall in Lincolnshire:

 

Revesby Hall (Wikimedia Commons)

The Vase moved on one more time, when it was bought by the 7th Earl Stanhope in 1934:

The Vase is now at Chevening (and hopefully won’t go anywhere else as there are no more sides to engrave……). This is as appropriate a place as any given that the Stanhope family was closely bound to the Pitts by blood and marriage, and the first Lord Chatham lived there for a while in 1769 and helped lay out the grounds (nobody ever managed to stop him “improving” any house he stayed in). There is still a copy at Stowe, but the original can still be seen at Chevening, which holds annual garden Open Days if anybody is curious enough to want to see it. (The next up is likely to be in June 2017.)

References

[1] Lord Stanhope, Life of Pitt I, 39
[2] National Archives Chatham MSS PRO 30/8/365 f 243, 3 March 1831
[3] National Archives Chatham MSS PRO 30/8/365 f 241, 23 March 1831

A version of this blog post has previously appeared on the author's own blog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacqueline Reiter has a Phd in 18th century political history. Her first book, The Late Lord: the life of John Pitt, 2nd Earl of Chatham, will be published by Pen & Sword Books in January 2017. When she finds time she blogs about her historical discoveries at http://thelatelord.com/, and can be found on Twitter as https://twitter.com/latelordchatham. 

Bed and Breakfast in Seventeenth Century England

by Deborah Swift

Jan Steen  - Peasants Before an Inn

"There is no place in the world where passengers may so freely command, as in the English inns, and are attended for themselves and their horses as well as if they were home and perhaps better, each servant being ready at call, in hope of a small reward in the morning. Neither did I ever see inns so well furnished with household stuff" Fynes Moryson  1617*

In the seventeenth century, the coaching inn, sometimes called a coaching house or staging inn, was a vital hub of travel anywhere in England. Coaching inns were used to stable and feed the teams of horses necessary for stagecoaches and mail coaches, always having a fresh team ready so that travellers could soon be on their way again.  Traditionally, inns were seven miles apart, but obviously  in rural areas they could be few and far between, whereas in the city, and on popular routes, they would be far closer together. The stagecoach developed for fare-paying passengers, whereas previously, the coach was the personal conveyance of aristocrats and the gentry. The first ever stagecoach route, from Edinburgh to Leith, began in 1610.

Road conditions were generally terrible (see this post on the state of the roads in rthe 17thC)) and because the countryside was unmarked a traveller would sometimes hire a guide "one guide will serve the whole company, though many ride together, may easily bring back the horses, driving them before him, who knows a way as well as a beggar knows his dish"

Painiting by Frank Moss Bennett

In other words, sometimes the guide would drive extra horses with the party, so they could be changed, and then he would return the ‘used’ horses to the previous staging post. The most rapid way to travel then was by means of post-horses, relays of which stood ready at fixed stages. The authorities had fixed the cost of post-horse hire at 2 1/2d a mile with sixpence for a mounted post boy who brought back the hired horse. From stage to stage, ten miles an hour was not uncommon. When the roads were in good condition and you were provided with fresh horses, anything from seven to more than a hundred miles could be accomplished in one day. This why when people ask how long it takes to travel from a to b in the 17th century, the answers can be so variable.

Bath Stagecoach map

In 1639 Captain Bailey, formally a sea captain, erected a hackney coach stand near the Maypole in the Strand. This new idea was the equivalent of our taxi service. Seeing its success, other coach drivers soon flocked to the same place so that;

‘sometimes there is 20 of them together, which disperse up and down, that they and others are to be had everywhere, as watermen are to be had by the waterside. Everybody is much pleased with it all; whereas before coaches could not be had but at great rates; now a man may have one much cheaper.’  Letter from Mr Garrard to Wentworth, London 1639

Travellers depended on the inns if they were going on a long journey, whether they were in a coach or the newly invented hackney carriage the horses still needed to rest. Some towns, such as Barnet in Hertfordshire, on The Great North Road, boasted as many as ten staging inns and the competition between them was intense, not only for the income from the stagecoach operators, but because of the profit made by charging passengers for accommodation and food.

 the old White Hart Inn, Southwark

London was very well supplied with inns, and at the beginning of the 17th century the largest, most famous one was the White Hart in Southwark. It had been established in the medieval period and is even mentioned by Shakespeare in Henry VI, Part II as the headquarters of the rebels of the Kentish rebellion. It also became one of the many famous stage posts in the days of Charles Dickens. Unfortunately it was demolished and rebuilt in the Victorian era.

Walking was the cheapest and most common means of travel, though it was safer on horseback or in a coach. Hounslow Heath and Shooters Hill near Blackheath were notorious places for highway thieves, so after a day travelling on terrible roads and in fear for your life, the inn was no doubt a very welcome sight.

Once at the inn, men of quality were divided from men of inferior rank. Gentlemen could rent chambers and usually ate alone, unless they brought their friends or their female ‘consorts’. When I say alone, obviously gentlemen would have one or two servants attending, and the bill for the night might be five or six shillings for supper, bed, and breakfast. A solo traveller might get away with two shillings. Solo travellers would eat communally at the host’s table and be charged sixpence.

At his inn in St Martins Lane in  London in 1695 Thomas Brockbank had ‘sack, mutton stakes and pigeons’ for his supper, and for breakfast ‘toast and ale.’ Of course the horses fodder would also be charged to you, eighteen pence in winter for oats, hay and the bedding straw. In summer horses would be put out to pasture for threepence. (facts from Moryson’s Itinerary 1617)

detail from interior of a Tavern, Jan Steen

The bed you slept on was likely to be a simple box bed, shared with your travelling companions, and in the same room as your servants. Poorer people would share two or three to a bed with strangers, sharing the tally for the bed, and because it gave warmth in winter when a fire in the hearth cost extra. There was little space for privacy. The mattresses were often filled with pea-shucks, straw, or, if you were lucky, feathers. Inn beds could also be crawling with parasites. The diarist, John Evelyn, used another person’s bed when travelling, without changing the sheets because he was ‘heavy with pain and drowsiness.’ The next day, he wrote; ‘I shortly after paid dearly for my impatience, falling sick of the smallpox.’ 

Many wealthy people carried their own bed with them, and these could be elaborate affairs. Anne Clifford in her diary recounts how she travelled with her own bed. Having a travelling bed reduced the risk of infection. This great little article from Lancaster University about 17th century sleeping says: 'Stockport Heritage Service owns a travelling box bed, from approximately 1600. This bed was made with a set of stairs (in order to climb into the bed), with two locking wig boxes (again, indicating a relative degree of wealth) and two carved depictions of a husband and wife, complete with initials, fixed to the front of the bed. The panels indicate that this was made to commemorate a wedding and probably given as a gift to the husband and wife.'

As well as choosing an inn, it was possible to stop and refresh yourself at an alehouse. Alehouses generally did not provide stabling or accommodation, and were often one-man, or one-woman enterprises, selling from the doorstep. Donald Lupton in 1642 observed that ‘kerb appeal’ was important for an alehouse:  ‘if the houses have a box-bush or an old post, it is enough to show their profession. But if they be graced with a sign complete, it's a sign of good custom’. Interestingly, he also tells us that in these houses "you shall see the history of Judith, Susanna, Daniel in the Lion's Den, or Dives and Lazarus painted upon the wall.' So biblical murals are also a sign of a respectable establishment!

Unlike the coaching inns, with their gentrified clientele, the alewife must ‘Be courteous to all, though not by nature yet by her profession, for she must entertain all good and bad; tag and rag, cut and  long-tail. She suspects tinkers and poor soldiers most; not they will not drink soundly, but that they will not pay lustily.’

Bibliography

Every One a Witness in the Stuart Age - A F Scott

Suart England - Blair Worden

Young Mr Pepys - John Hearsey

Voices from the World of Samuel Pepys - Jonathan Bastable

Bath Tourist Info

Roads in Tring Hertfordshire

Pictures from wiki commons

*Fynes Moryson was educated at Cambridge, and after graduating From May 1591 to May 1595 he travelled round Continental Europe for the specific purpose of observing local customs, institutions, and economics. In 1617, Moryson published the first three volumes of An Itinerary: Containing His Ten Years Travel through the Twelve Dominions of Germany, Bohemia, Switzerland, Netherland, Denmark, Poland, Italy, Turkey, France, England, Scotland and Ireland.

Deborah Swift is the author of three novels set in the 17th Century, and a teenage trilogy. She also writes WWII fiction under pen-name Davina Blake. Find her on Facebook, or twitter @swiftstory, or visit her historical fiction blog.