CHAPTER IX

FOOD

London has always been a City renowned for the great plenty and excellence of its food. In the twelfth century Fitz Stephen vaunts the cook-shops. He says, “There is also in London on the bank of the river, amongst the wine shops which are kept in shops and cellars, a public eating house. There are to be found, according to the season, every day, dishes of meat, roast, fried, and boiled, great and small fish, coarser meats for the poor, more delicate for the rich, of game, fowls, and small birds.” These cook-shops were principally stationed in Thames Street and East Chepe.

The Londoner had two meals a day. For the nobility, dinner at eleven and supper at five. For the merchants, dinner at twelve, supper at six. Cookery books in manuscript have come down to us from the fourteenth century, and a great many menus of feasts have been preserved. So it is quite easy to understand how the King and the great lords lived, but it is not so easy to understand the ordinary fare of the well-to-do citizen and the craftsman. Before presenting the menu let us speak of certain dinner customs. The tables were movable; they were laid on trestles; they were covered with white cloths. Before every man was a wooden platter or a “roundel.” The roundel was a circular wooden platter, one side of which was covered with a black ground on which were inscribed certain verses in gilt letters within a circle formed by a broad band of white and a narrow band of gold. In the inner circle was a figure of some kind, and generally each roundel was one of a series representing a group of figures. Thus in _Archæologia_, vol. xxxiv., may be found the figures and verses of nine such roundels out of a set of twelve. They belong to the time of Elizabeth or James I.; that is to say, later than that we are now considering. Each figure represents some calling or trade. Thus, there are the Courtier, the Divine, the Soldier, the Lawyer, the Merchant, the Gentleman, the Bachelor, the Wife, the Widow, nine in all. Three are lost. It is suggested that these platters were used for fruit. But surely fruit would speedily have stained the figures. May they not have been intended for bread, which would not spoil a trencher? But it is possible also that they were only used for ornaments.

For the King or for any great lord there was the taster, to prevent the danger of poison; and the fool or jester sat or stood near the King and made him laugh—a feat, at times, of considerable difficulty.

As for the provisions at the banquet, here are two menus, both of the fourteenth century; they belong to great feasts, the kind of feast which would last for perhaps three days:—

FIRST COURSE

Browet farsed, and charlet, for pottage. Baked mallard. Teals. Small birds. Almond milk served with them. Capon roasted with the syrup. Roasted veal. Pig roasted “endored, and served with the yoke on his neck over gilt.” Herons. A leche. A tart of flesh.

SECOND COURSE

Browet of Almayne and Viaunde rial, for pottage. Mallard. Roasted rabbits. Pheasant. Venison. Jelly. A leche. Urchynnes (hedgehogs). Pome de orynge.

THIRD COURSE

Boar in egurdouce, and Mawmené, for pottage. Cranes. Kid. Curlew. Partridge. (All roasted.) A leche. A custarde. A peacock endored and roasted and served with the skin. Cockagris. Flaumpoyntes. Daryoles. Pears in syrup.

FIRST COURSE.—Brawn with mustard; cabbages in pottage; swan standard; cony, roasted; great custards.

SECOND COURSE.—Venison, in broth, with white mottrews; cony standard; partridges, with cocks, roasted; leche lombard; doucettes, with little parneux.

THIRD COURSE.—Pears in syrop; great birds with little ones together; fritters; payn puff, with a cold bake-meat.

[A few notes are necessary to elucidate the above menu:—Browet was a soup or broth made from boiled meat; Cockagris was a peculiar dish consisting of an old cock and a pig cooked together; Doucettes were sweet dishes; Flaumpoyntes were ornamented tarts; and to endore anything was to glaze it with yolk of egg.—ED.]

It will be remarked that there is no mention here of plain beef or mutton. These did not belong to a feast. They are, however, mentioned in plainer bills of fare. The endeavour of the cook was to serve made dishes highly seasoned and spiced. Wright, for instance, explains some of the receipts by which it will be seen that our forefathers were luxurious in their food, if not gross. Everything also points to the fact that they were very large eaters. The open-air life led by the better class, the riding and exercise, the very scanty use of vegetables,—all these contributed to make them ready for the trencher.

At every course of a great banquet the cook sent up a “subtlety”—which was a composition in pastry, the last survival of which was the ornamental castle in sponge cake which used to occupy the middle of the table at a dinner party. These “subtleties” were sometimes elaborate and artistic groups with figures of animals—such as a boar, hart, or sheep. In John Russell’s _Boke of Nurture_ are presented several “subteltis.” Thus at his “Dinner of Flesche” for the first course—

“And then a Sotelte. Maydon Mary that holy Virgyne; And Gabrille gretynge her with an Ave.”

For the second course—

“A sotelte folowynge in fere, The course for to fullfylle An angell goodly can appere, And syngynge with a mery chere Unto iij shepherdes uppon an hille.”

And for the third course— “Soteltes fulle soleym: That Lady that conseuyd by the Holy Ghost Hym that destroyed the fendes boost Presented pleasantly by the Kinges of Coleyn.”[8]

[8] Cologne.

Chaucer alludes to the extravagances of “soteltes” in the Parson’s Tale:—“Pryde of the table apereth eeke ful ofte: for certes, riche men bene cleped in feestes and poure folk ben putte away and rebuked. Also in excesse of dyverse metes and drynkes: and namely suche manere bake metes and dish metes: brennenge of wilde fyr and peynted and castellated with papir and scurblable wast: so that it is abusive for to thinke.”

The people of mediæval times loved everything to be sweet, as is shown above in their pouring a sweet sauce over their birds, and honey over their meat; they also sweetened their wine. Each course, which consisted of three or more dishes for an ordinary dinner, was a dinner in itself, containing fish, flesh, fowl, and sweets. For instance, at a certain dinner there were two courses only, but of eight or nine dishes to each course; thus we have in the first course, lamprey, codling, shoulder of mutton, chicken, wild goose, wood dove, worts (vegetable) and “tortous” in paste. In the second we have eels, sea horse, lamb, mallard, quail, goldfinch, and “pynnondde”; but there was an interval between each course. As we shall see immediately, table manners were carefully taught and insisted upon. One curious regulation was that cooks were forbidden to go out of the City in order to meet victuals coming in, so that they might get them more cheaply than in the open market. The Mayor also took account of the deceitful ways of certain pastelers or piebakers, who dared to put giblets and rabbits into their pies, and to sell beef pies for venison pies. And the sale of meat that was putrid was punished by pillory, while the meat itself was burned under the offender’s nose. The great City merchant fed as well as the King, and sometimes entertained the King quite royally. The humbler man, the well-to-do burgher, and even the craftsman, there is every reason to believe, fared well and plentifully: they lived on beef and mutton, meat pies, pork, capons, wild birds, and sea fish. The wild birds were brought up in great quantities from the counties of Essex and Suffolk; there was a plentiful supply of fish; from all the country round along every track that they called a highway, down the rivers—the Thames, the Brent, the Wandle, the Fleet, the Lea, the Ravensbourne, came boats and barges laden with farm produce. The City was well supplied; and there was seldom any dearth. As for the food of the middle classes—the better sort—was not the Company at the Tabard chiefly composed of the middle class? Among them was the Cook. What did he cook for them?

“A cook they hadde with them for the nones, To boil the chicken and the marrow bones, And poudre marchant tart, and galingale Well could he know a draught of London ale. He could roast and seethe and broil and fry, Maken mortrewes and well bake a pie. * * * * * For blank manger that made he with the best.”

“‘Blank manger’ is a compound of capon minced, with rice, milk, sugar and almonds. ‘Poudre marchant tart’ is a sharp kind of flavouring powder stewed with meat. Galingale is the root of the sweet cyprus, now no longer used. It is said to have an aromatic smell and a hot, biting taste.

Of ‘mortrewes’ there were two kinds, ‘mortrewes de char’ and ‘mortrewes of fysshe.’ The first was a kind of soup in which chicken, fresh pork, bread crumbs, yolks of eggs, and saffron formed the chief ingredients. The second kind was a soup containing the roe (or milt) and liver of fish, bread, pepper, and ale. The ingredients were first brazed in a mortar, whence their name.” (Skeat, _Notes to Canterbury Tales_.)

For a mixed company which contained—all together—craftsmen, retailers, merchants, sailors, ecclesiastics, squires, and knights, the kind of food here indicated is generous, at least.

If, however, we study the list of creatures killed for one of the huge feasts in which the people took delight we arrive at a clearer understanding of the kind of food that could be bought by those who could afford it. Of animals we find wild bulls (!), oxen, sheep, calves, swine, kids, stags, bucks, and does. Of birds there are plover, quail, “rees” (query, ruffs and reeves?), peacock, mallard, swan, teal, crane, chicken, pigeon, bittern, heron, pheasant, partridge, woodcock, curlew, egrette. Of fish, pike, bream, porpoise, seal. Jellies, tarts, custards, and sugared spices sweetened the magnificent feast. In the account of another meal which took place on a fast day, we find the following:—Of fish: ling, cod, salmon, fresh and salted, white herring, red herring, sturgeon, eel, salt and fresh, whelk, pike, tench, carp, bream, lamprey, fresh and salt, conger, roach, seal, and porpoise. And in other menus we find entries of magpie, rook, jackdaw, thrush, starling, linnet, sparrow, heathcock, cormorant, sheldrake, wildfowl, lark. The crane plays a considerable part in mediæval feasting. On one occasion when ambassadors arrived from France, the City gave them, among other things, twelve cranes and twelve pheasants. At the enthronisation feast of the Archbishop of York (6 Ed. IV.) there were provided 204 cranes, 204 bitterns, and 400 heron-shaws. At a feast of Richard II. we find the following as the second course:—

Pottage Pigges rosted Cranes rosted Fesaunts rosted Herne rosted

Cranes lived in damp and marshy places, as did also egrettes, a kind of heron; the country was covered with such places; so that they were doubtless common. Since 204 cranes could have been trapped or caught or shot with bow or with sling, for a single feast, they must have been quite common.

In a word, the people trapped, killed, and devoured all birds great and small. Hares and rabbits, of course, were served at table; and perhaps, no less daintily, the squirrel and hedgehog.

Of vegetables and herbs there was a considerable variety, such as garlic, sage, parsley, ditany, wild thyme, onions, leeks, beans, peas, etc. The table, generally laid on trestles, was spread with a white cloth, the cleanliness of which was a matter of pride. The dinner scenes presented in MSS. of the time show a service of a very simple character. The Royal or noble party are seated upon what appears to be a bench without a back. Minstrels made music during the feast, especially between the courses; jugglers, acrobats, or dancers performed after dinner. The principal ornament of the table was the _nef_, a silver vessel in the form of a ship which stood before the King or lord, and contained the salt and the King’s towel. The meat, carved by a carver at a side table, was laid upon thick slices of bread which received the gravy. Each guest brought his own knife. Before and after dinner every one washed their hands. The ale and wine went round in horns and drinking cups. Every guest had his napkin, the conduct of which is carefully laid down in the _Babees Book_. The floor was spread with rushes, which were by no means too clean or fresh. The old custom of laying straw in coaches and omnibuses may remind us of such a carpet. When the guest had done with the bones, he threw them on the floor for the dogs, if they chose; he did the same with the uneaten scraps. As for forks there were none. Edward I., it is recorded, possessed one. Gaveston luxuriously ate pears with the help of a fork—he had four. The Duke of Burgundy at the same time had one. During dinner the minstrels played in the gallery. It has been stated that bread was used for plates. The word “trencher” is derived from this custom. It was not the best bread that was so used, but a second quality baked for the purpose. The loaf was first pared to get rid of the crusts, and then cut into “tranchoirs” or “trenchers,” _i.e._ into thick slices. The parings went into the alms dish. Thus (_Boke of Curtasye_, edited by F. J. Furnivall) the Almoner said grace—

“The aumener by this hathe sayde grace, And the almes dysshe hathe sett in place, Therein the carver a lofe schalle sette, To serve God fyrst withouten lette: These othere lofes he parys aboute, Lays hit myd dysshe, withouten doute.”

They were dainty in the matter of bread. The commoner kinds were known as “tourte,” “his,” or “trete” and white. The finer kinds were “simnel,” “painman,” or “payn de main,” _i.e._ _panis domini_, from the figure of our Lord stamped upon it; and manchet. The finer kinds were not allowed to be made in Lent. The kinds called “pouffe” and “Fraunceise” seem to have been the same as the “simnel” and the manchet. The bread of the working classes was of oats, of rye, of beans and bran, or of beans and acorns.

Among river fish and fish of ponds or stews, carp was extremely scarce. Dame Juliana Berners, in her _Book of St. Alban’s_, says, “And of the carp that it is a deyntous fyssche, but there ben but fewe in Englande.” It is said to have been naturalised by one Leonard Mascal in Sussex about the year 1514.

“Hops and turkeys, carp and beer, Came into England all in a year.”

This is not true so far as the hop is concerned, for it seems to have been introduced by Edward I. Wine was made in England down to the fifteenth century. The Vale of Gloucester produced the finest wine, which was said to be in no way inferior to the wine of Gascony. Richard II. planted vines at Windsor, and made a large quantity of wine, some of which was sold, and the rest used by the Court. The reason why this industry fell into disuse was the discovery that wine could be imported from Bordeaux cheaper and better than it could be made at home.

London has always been well supplied with taverns and drinking-places; its people have never taken kindly to ways of temperance. We must, however, distinguish between an inn and a tavern. At first the inn—hostel, hostelry—was a lodging-house only; it received the traveller and gave him a room, but not much else; and, as we have seen, after one day and night the hosteller must become responsible for his guest unless he could get special license from the authorities. The visitor was not allowed to carry a sword or any weapon, or to wear armour in the City boundaries; and he must not go about the streets after curfew; also he must buy his food, bread and beer, and meat and wine, from the dealer, and not from the hosteller.

When the inn became a house that supplied food and drink to the guest I know not, yet in Stow’s time it would seem that it did so. The point to remember, however, is that the inn was not a tavern or an eating-house.

Of taverns Stow mentions some, as the “Pope’s Head” and the “Cardinal’s Hat” in Cornhill Ward; certain “tippling” houses in Mountgodard Street, and others. The ale-house and the tavern which proclaimed their trade by the “ale-stake” had often the extra adornment of a garland or hoop. The garland was decorated with ribbons, and was attached to the “ale-stake” with the “bush” of ivy leaves, which dangled from the pole before every tavern. We have seen what is said in _Liber Albus_ as to the regulation length of the pole. The signs of the taverns were not at first different from other trade signs; there were the Swan, the Bull, the Dog, the Boar’s Head, and so forth. But this practice of hanging out a garland in addition to the old sign caused the names of tavern signs to undergo change: thus, the Swan became the Swan on the Hoop; the Star became the Star on the Hoop. Riley enumerates many of these signs: thus Hugh atte Cocke, Thomas atte Red Door, Walter atte Gote, John atte Belle, the Catfethele (Cat and Fiddle), the Lion atte Dore, Le Sonner, Le Mone, and others.

For drink, the common and national drink was ale, of which the people consumed immense quantities. It seems to have been served out to any member of the household in any reasonable quantity whenever he asked for it. Of course there were no hot drinks such as tea and coffee, although herbs were often infused with hot water for medicine. The principal wines were red wine from Bordeaux, white wine from Bordeaux, also from the Rhine, strong wine from Spain, Portugal, Tuscany, Sicily, Cyprus, Gaza. There were also cider, perry, mead, and strong ale—anything but water, and many drinks were compounded. Thus the people made “Claré,” “Bragot,” “Hippocras,” the receipts for which are given in Skeat’s _Chaucer_.[9] Thus to make claré, “Take a galoun of honi, and skome (skim) it wel, and loke whanne it is isoden (boiled), that ther be a galoun; thanne take viii galouns of red wyn, than take a pound of pouder canel (cinnamon) and half a pounde of pouder gynger and a quarter of a pounde of pouder pepper, and medle (mix) alle these thynges togeder and (with) the wyn; and do hym in a clene barelle, and stoppe it fast, and rolle it well ofte sithes, as men don verious 3 dayes.”

[9] _Knightes Tale_, p. 177, quotation from Sloan MS.

In the fifteenth century home-brewed beer cost 1½d. a gallon. Since beer is now 16d. a gallon, the inference would be that money then could buy thirteen times as much as at present. But this inference, as I shall show presently, would not be sound. Wine cost 8d. or 12d. a gallon. Good wine can hardly be had now under 15s. a gallon or 30s. a dozen. It would not, however, be fair to conclude that money then would buy twenty times as much as it does now.

In considering the food of the people we must be reminded that a large part of every year consisted of those days on which neither meat, eggs, butter, nor milk could be eaten, and only one meal a day was to be taken; and of those days on which meat was forbidden. There were one hundred and ten days in the year, nearly one in three, on which a strict churchman would not eat meat, and of these there were more than sixty days on which he was allowed only one meal a day, and that without meat, butter, eggs, or milk. It is not to be supposed that the great mass of the people obeyed so rigid a rule: the work of the world, at least in the case of everything that demands activity of brain or strength of arm, would come to an end. Such a rule is only for a company of monks; but it is very certain that Lent and Fridays were observed with the greatest strictness so far as concerned abstinence from meat. No butchers’ stalls were opened; no cooks’ shops served meat to their customers. Dispensations and indulgences were granted, but the broad fact remains that in Lent and on Fridays no meat could be bought or sold, and none was used. Fish was thus a very important constituent in the food-supply; and the price of fish, which the Companies for the most part regulated by themselves for their own profit, was continually the subject of complaint and even of riots. Leprosy, it was commonly held, was caused by eating salted fish after it had become putrid or tainted.

The following sorts of fish were salted: cod, salmon, conger, ling, brake, sturgeon, herring, pilchard, sprats, and eels; while perch, tench, bream, grayling, eels, and trout were caught for food. Carp and pike were considered delicacies. The great houses had fish-ponds or stews. Sea fish were baked in pies to enable them to be carried inland. (See also _London in the Time of the Tudors_, pp. 127, 152.)

There were many markets for food in London. The names of most of them have been preserved by the name of the street. Of the instances in the case of the streets running out of Chepe we have already spoken. Certain commodities are still associated with certain localities; fish has always been sold at Billingsgate, cattle and horses at Smithfield, and butchers’ meat in Newgate Street. The great market on the south side of Chepe was given up to mercers, tailors, drapers, armourers, saddlers—all trades unconnected with food.

The food of the country people, according to Piers Plowman, consisted almost entirely of vegetable produce. “I have no money,” says Piers, “to buy pullets, geese, or pigs.” He had two green cheeses, a few curds and cream, an oat-cake and two loaves of beans and bran for the children. He says that he has no salt bacon, but he has parsley, leeks, and cabbages. The peasants ate, besides, peascods, beans, leeks, onions, chervils, and such fruit as grew wild; but they had no meat, or fish, wheaten or barley bread, no wine or beer.

This was in the country, where life was truly grievous. In the town, according to the same authority, there was a very different scene. Here, among the crowd of craftsmen of all kinds, cooks and their valets cried out all day, “Hot pies, hot! Good pigs and geese! Come and dine! come and dine!” While the taverner bawled, “White wine of Alsace! Red wine of Gascony! Wine of the Rhine! Wine of Rochelle!”

And he paints a tavern scene at which Clement the cobbler sells his cloak, and Hick the hackney man his hood, and they spend the money in drink.

“Cis the shoemaker sat on the bench, Wat the warrener and his wife also, Tim the tinker and two of his prentices, Hick the hackney man, and Hugh the needle-seller, Clarice of Cock Lane, and the clerk of the church, Daw the ditcher, and a dozen others, Sir Piers of Pridie and Pernel of Flanders, a fiddle-player, a ratter, a sweeper of Cheap, a rope-maker, a riding-man, and Rose the dish-maker, Godfrey of Garlickhithe, and Griffin the Welshman, and many old-clothesmen.”

In 1412 Henry instructed the Mayor to obtain a return of the land and tenements held in the City and suburbs for purposes of taxation. The return professed to be incomplete, but the details (see Sharpe’s _London and the Kingdom_) are instructive. The gross rental of London was set down at £4120; that of the Mayor and Corporation at £150: 9: 11. The Bridge Estate was worth £148: 15: 3. Private property in the City showed that Robert Chichele, the Mayor, owned houses returning £42: 19: 2, and Whittington owned houses returning £25. Of course this rental in no way represents the whole property of either. Attempts have been made to use old rentals in order to ascertain the comparative value of money. It is, however, an absolute impossibility to estimate in this, or in any other way, the true value of money at any date. It is almost waste of time to attempt any comparison with the present day unless we know—which we can never learn—the standards of comfort and the way of life in every rank and every class. For instance, as we have seen, a noble lord, who owned hundreds of manors, kept up a great state with a huge following who lived upon him. He neither saved money nor tried to save money; his estates produced an income regular and large; he spent all; what was over was given in charity or to the Church; he emptied his coffers as fast as they were replenished. The merchant, who lived in luxury, had to save because his way of life was precarious. The retailer for the same reason—the uncertainty of trade—was compelled, by the ordinary rules of prudence, to live within his income. The craftsman, on the other hand, was like the noble lord in one respect—that he never saw or felt the necessity of saving money; he was always, as he is still, removed from starvation by one week’s wages. The position, the wages of the craftsman can only, therefore, be understood if we know how he was accustomed to live and how he wished to live, the amount of meat, bread, and beer he consumed.

Then, again, the prices which are quoted are always those of regulation. When provisions began to be dear the Mayor and Aldermen made laws as to the market price. They returned again and again to this method. When, as sometimes happened, the high prices were caused by the greed of traders, or by any kind of combination, this method answered very well. For instance, there were continual complaints of the fishmongers’ exorbitant charges,—perhaps they were not really exorbitant,—but at any rate regulations were passed, accordingly, ordering the price of fish. These regulations answered roughly for a little while, and were then forgotten and disregarded. What was the use of ordering the fishmonger to sell his “best” smelts at a penny the hundred, if the supply were limited and the demand excessive? The right of the Mayor and Aldermen to regulate the price at which anything was to be sold was never questioned; but, like many other mediæval rights, it could never be enforced for lack of a police. In the year 1300, for instance, without any apparent pressure of scarcity, the Mayor issued regulations as to the price of all provisions, but those for birds alone are preserved.

Again, it helps one very little or not at all in the estimate of money and its value, to know the market price of things, unless we know also whether the said commodities were at the time necessaries or luxuries, whether they were abundant or scarce. Thus a pheasant was to be sold at fourpence. Who bought pheasants? Were they scarce or plentiful? Again, the following table drawn up by Dugdale is often quoted to show the purchasing power of money in the year 1300:—

A quarter of Wheat 4s. A quarter of Ground Malt 3s. 4d. A quarter of Pease 2s. 4d. A Bull 7s. 6d. A Cow 6s. A Fat Mutton 1s. An Ewe Sheep 0s. 8d. A Capon 0s. 2d. A Cock or Hen 0s. 1½d.

We know that a quarter of wheat costs at the present moment so much, and we may, if we please, compare modern prices with mediæval prices of wheat, but that helps us little, because we all eat wheaten bread now, and formerly the common people did not. The value of money must depend, not on prices alone, but, as I have said, also on the standard of living, on wages, on hours of work, on the cost of things, on plenty and scarcity, on taxation, and on many other considerations.

Thus, in the year 1314, corn being scarce, and provisions dear, the King, with the consent of his Parliament, fixed the price of provisions. Comparing the King’s prices of 1314 with the Lord Mayor’s of 1300, it is plain that scarcity had raised the price considerably. “If any person,” says the Proclamation, “will not sell the saleable things for the price appointed as hereinbefore set forth, then the said saleable thing shall remain forfeited to us. And we will that the aforesaid ordinances from this time be firmly and inviolably observed in our said City.” So that the Parliament of the year 1314 actually believed that they could fix the prices of provisions so that they should remain fixed! That an attempt was made seriously to carry out this law is apparent from a Brief of two years after, in which the King says, referring to the unlucky law of 1314, “Because we have understood that such a Proclamation, which at that time we believed would be to the Profit of the People of our Realm, redounds to their greater damage than profit, we command you that in the said several places ye cause publicly to be proclaimed that Oxen, Cows, Sheep, Hogs, Geese, Capons, Hens, Chickens, Young Pigeons and Eggs, be sold for a reasonable price as was accustomed to be done before the said former Proclamation.”

The knowledge of what was commonly paid for rent is some help towards understanding the value of money, but not much. There must be left over and above the rent, for the tenant, enough for him and his family to live upon. We are also helped by the endowments of Chantries. A Chantry priest was expected to live upon an endowment varying generally from £5 to £7 a year. The priest was an able-bodied man, raised above the lowest class—to which he often belonged by birth—and he looked for a certain standard of comfort. He had to live, say, on six pounds a year, which is about 2s. 4d. a week, or 4d. a day. It may also be noted that a young woman of the better sort was supposed to cost 8d. a week for her board. Comparing this allowance with the prices ordered by the Mayor at any time within two hundred years, it will be found that a man could live very well on 4d. a day. This would go a long way when a whole sheep cost a shilling, and a quarter of wheat 4s. If we suppose that a craftsman lived at two-thirds the cost of a priest, and that he had a wife and four children, we obtain the following estimate:—

The craftsman per annum £4 0 0 His wife 2 0 0 His four children 4 0 0 ——————- £10 0 0

He would, therefore, want a wage of four shillings a week or 8d. a day. Now the wages given to the workmen at St. Stephen’s Chapel in 1358 are preserved in the Account Rolls of Edward III. Some of them, enough for our purpose, are extracted in Britton and Bayley’s _History of Westminster Palace_ (p. 174). The wages varied. Eighteenpence a day was paid to Master Edmund Canon, stone-cutter, one shilling a day to Hugh the painter, 10d. a day to C. Pokerick, 8d. a day to W. Lincoln and W. Somervile, 6d. a day to W. Heston, 4½d., and even 4d., a day to J. York and W. Cambridge.

The craftsman, therefore, who had a family to keep was paid from 4d. to 8d. a day. His standard of living must have been considerably lower than that of the priest, who obtained the same allowance in money, but had no family to bring up.

In a word, if we assume, what we have no right to assume, that a clergyman of the present day has the same standard of living as the priest of the fourteenth century, and, when unmarried, lives in the same style, that is to say, without giving away money in charity, without buying books, without having a club, without travelling, living quite plainly, he could manage on about £80 a year compared with the priest’s £6 or £7, so that money in the fourteenth century was worth about twelve times what it would purchase at the present day. But that theory breaks down when we consider that a sheep could be bought for a shilling, and a cock or hen for 1½d., because at the present day a sheep cannot be bought for twelve shillings, and a cock or hen for eighteenpence. So that it comes to what I said above, that it is perfectly impossible to ascertain the value of money in the fourteenth or any other century compared with this, unless we know a great quantity of things which we can never ascertain.

Into the subject of dress we cannot venture, if only for the reason that the fashions changed then as now, and nearly as often. Some attempt was made at sumptuary laws, but without effect, for the simple reason that every woman will always, in every age, despite any laws to the contrary, dress herself as well as her means allows, and that with men splendour of dress was then accepted as a proof of success and wealth. Their fashions were on the whole far more beautiful than those of modern days, and not more absurd.