by Ian Mortimer
The only mechanical clocks you will come across are large turret clocks built into the bell towers of aristocratic palaces and some of the major abbeys and cathedrals. By the end of the century there are clocks in the cathedrals of Salisbury and Wells, and in several royal palaces and castles, including Westminster, Windsor, Queenborough, and King’s Langley. Chaucer refers to a clock in the abbey tower in his “Nun’s Priest’s Tale.” Obviously clocks regulate the day in a wholly different way, measuring eighteen hours of daylight and six of nighttime in summer (not twelve and twelve). For this reason there are two sorts of time in use simultaneously: clock time and solar time. So it is necessary to specify “hour of the clock” (our “o’clock”), if that is what you mean, in order to differentiate between the two. Note that clocks do not show the time; they announce it by ringing a bell on the hour. Thus you will find people speak not only of “hours of the clock” but also of “hours of the bell.”4
Even before clocks are invented, bells are an important means of telling the time in towns and cities. In London the great bell of St. Martin’s le Grand is the one to listen out for. It is this bell which tells you when the markets are open, and when curfew starts. In a large city like London, where many bells are rung for a wide variety of reasons, knowing the sound each bell makes represents a third method of telling the time. Most people get up at daybreak. The first hour of their day is known as “prime.” The third hour (about 9 a.m.) is called “terce”; the sixth hour (noon) is “sext”; the ninth hour of the day (midafternoon), “nones”; and so on. The bells ring across the town for “vespers” at the twelfth hour. As the bells can be heard all over town, it does not matter if they are a few minutes out this way or that, or whether they are using solar hours or hours “of the clock.” Whoever rings the said bell sets the standard time for everyone else.
One time of day to which, as a traveler, you will need to pay particular attention is curfew. In London, when the bell of St. Martin’s le Grand rings out at the end of the day, the gates to the city are closed and all the people return to their homes or inns. Within the city the watchmen begin their duty—six men patrolling each ward, more guarding the gates—and only men of good repute are permitted in the streets, and then only if they are carrying a lantern. All the taverns have to close their doors. All boats on the river have to be moored. Strangers found out after curfew are likely to be arrested as nightwalkers. For this reason, if you have not found yourself somewhere to stay by the time the curfew bell rings, your best bet is to leave the city straightaway and seek a place to stay outside the city walls, in the suburbs or at Southwark. Otherwise the watch will probably find you overnight accommodation in one of the city prisons. These are among the least savory places to spend any length of time, let alone a whole night.
Units of Measurement
Having seen that there is little or no standardization of language, spelling, date, or time, it will not come as a total surprise to hear that there are considerable variations in some of the units of measurement employed in fourteenth-century England. For example: a “plowland” is the amount of land which a plowteam of eight oxen can plow in a year—this results in a very different acreage in steeply sloping Devon to the same measurement in flat Norfolk. The acre itself is somewhat variable, reflecting its origin as the area which a team of oxen could plow in a day. Although Edward I tries to standardize the acre at 4,840 square yards (the “statute acre”), customary acres persist. The Cheshire acre is nearly twice the size of a statute acre, and the Yorkshire acre is considerably larger too. The Cumberland acre varies in size from place to place, from just over one to almost two statute acres.5 The Cornish acre varies too but on a much grander scale, being anything from fifteen to three hundred statute acres.6 As for distances, an Old French mile is about 1.25 statute miles, and many educated people in fourteenth-century England refer to distances in Old French miles.7 This international standard is practically the only widespread measure of distance. Locally, miles of varying lengths are in use, such as the 2,428-yard mile in West Yorkshire (the modern mile of 1,760 yards will not be established until a statute of 1593).
There are considerable complexities attached to other measures. It is not so much that they vary as that they may be differently interpreted, according to what it is you are trying to measure. A foot in length is the same as your modern foot of 12 inches but if you are measuring cloth then you use the ell, normally 45 inches—but 27 inches if the cloth is Flemish. Probably the most complicated measures are those involving liquids. A gallon of wine is not the same volume as a gallon of ale. A standard hogshead contains 63 wine-gallons or 52.5 ale-gallons. Except that there is no such thing as a standard hogshead; there is a standard for wine, another for ale, and a third for beer (which is imported). If you are buying beer in London, a hogshead amounts to 54 ale-gallons; if you are buying ale, it amounts to 48.
This sounds complicated but it could be worse. Devon has its own peculiar weights and measures system, so any merchant doing business there needs to keep his wits about him. The Devon “rod” measures 18 feet, not 16.5, so an acre measures 5,760 square yards, not 4,840. There are 16.5 pounds to the stone (not 14), when measuring cheese or butter. The Devon pound weighs 18 ounces (not 16). A hundredweight is not 112 pounds as elsewhere in England but 120 pounds. There are 10 gallons in a Devon bushel, not the more usual 8. In a later century a traveler remarks that a man from the Midlands or the north of England “might travel through all the countries of Europe and not find practices more foreign to his own than those of Devon.”8
Identity
At the start of the fourteenth century, it is not that unusual to come across people in rural England who have only one name. A villein called, say, Ilbert, who has always farmed the same clutch of acres across his lord’s fields and has similarly spent all his life living in one cottage, Westcott, is unlikely to be addressed as anything other than Ilbert. A man of his lowly rank does not normally bear a hereditary surname. If he were called John, a much more common name, then the need to distinguish him from other Johns in the parish would doubtless arise, and the manorial clerk might describe him as “John of Westcott” or “John, Libert’s son.” But whichever appellation he is ascribed, it is simply a distinguishing feature, not a hereditary name. If John moves to Southcott he will soon become known as “John of Southcott.” In 1300 only your official, wealthy, and political classes need to have hereditary surnames, so they can be identified outside their places of residence, or so testimony given on their authority can be repeated in future years. Hence all the franklins, esquires, and gentry you meet will have a hereditary identity. Villeins who do not travel far, or hold an office, have little need of one.
All this changes in the second and third quarters of the century. Partly as a result of downturns in the economy from the 1315–23 period, and especially after the Great Plague of 1348–49, villeins start moving around between manors much more often. The need to identify different people from many more places becomes apparent. Moreover, the concept of a consistent family name for everyone—not just the rich and well traveled—develops, so that by 1400 people expect that a man called “John of Westcott” or “John Ilbertson” will be called by the same name whether he is in Westcott or Westminster. Moreover, the idea of an unchanging family name means that even John’s sons will be expected to carry the surname Ilbertson. By 1400 the idea of everyone having a hereditary surname has caught on.
Identity is much more than a name. It includes where you are from and, by implication, how far you are from those who will protect you. It includes status. In the case of a nobleman this obviously implies his title, or the name of his principal manor. A London freeman’s company or guild may also form part of his identity. In other towns and cities, the very fact that a man is a freeman of the place is important: it implies that he has certain rights. An abbot similarly depends on his religious house for his identity; the abbot of Westminster is a far more important man than the abbot of Flaxley, for
example. Then of course there is the heraldic aspect of identity, which distinguishes the lords, knights, and esquires from the rest of the community, including such merchants who are descended from heraldic families. These are not to be regarded lightly. Some knights value their coat of arms as highly as their family name and will enter into long and costly legal battles to prove their right to a particular design.
All these elements of identity come together in a seal. A seal is a matrix which creates an impression in soft wax, allowing a man or woman to authenticate a document. Most seals of the nobility contain either a coat of arms or a depiction of the lord in armor on horseback, bearing his arms on a shield. They normally have an inscription recording the lord’s name and principal title or, if merely a knight, his principal manor. Secular lords’ seals are round; so too are merchants’ seals, which carry a design of a bird or some other emblem (if the merchant is not armigerous). Ecclesiastical seals are not round but a tall, symmetrical convex shape, as are noblewomen’s seals. Normally a man keeps his seal about his person, or his secretary or chaplain will look after it. When he dies, the matrix of his seal will be broken. If it is lost, he will urge town criers to announce that documents sealed with it no longer carry his approval.
Seals are used to represent corporate identities too. Not only does an abbot have a personal seal, his abbey has a communal seal. Seals are used for cities and incorporated towns (those ruled by a mayor and corporation). A whole range of organizations have seals: merchant guilds and London companies, Oxford and Cambridge colleges, priories, collegiate churches, even some bridges. As with individuals’ seals, these are marks of identity and authority: the medieval equivalent of a signature.
As for the seals of the kingdom, one of the king’s two great seals is kept by the chancellor for sealing Chancery documents, and the other by the treasurer for sealing Exchequer documents. These huge seals, six inches across, are color coded: the Chancery uses red wax, the Exchequer green. The king’s own letters are sealed with a much smaller personal seal, the privy seal. At least that is how things stand at the beginning of the century. In Edward III’s reign the use of the privy seal is increasingly delegated to its keeper, who can deal with routine business as directed by the king. The king himself has a new “secret seal” or signet made to authenticate his personal letters and directions. This is kept by his secretary. By 1400 there are four royal seals in operation: the secret seal, privy seal, and two versions of the great seal.
Manners and Politeness
You might think that medieval society is dirty, violent, and uncouth. Maybe it is, but that does not mean it is without high standards of politeness. It is particularly important to behave in an appropriate manner in the company of the rich and powerful. Great lords can be very prickly, and any disrespect shown to them or members of their household is liable to lead to bitterness, enmity, and violent repercussions. Just look through the rolls of patent letters at the number of men who are forgiven for murder; and look at the thousands of gallows throughout the country, which are never empty for long. Manners maketh Man, they say. Certainly the lack of them can unmake a man.
The important thing is to remember the universal desire for respect. The modern idea of impressing your peers by showing an arrogant disregard towards your social superiors simply has no place in medieval England. When you come to the house of a social equal or superior, you are expected to leave your weapons with the gatekeeper or to hand them to your host. “He who comes to a house, look he bring nothing dangerous,” as they say. Do not enter a man’s hall without permission, whatever sort of man he be. In the case of a yeoman or a merchant, a servant will probably announce your arrival. With important lords, the chamberlain or the marshal of the hall, or one of his ushers, will take you to his lord or his lady. Take off your hat, cap, or hood and keep it off until you are told to put it back on. When you enter your host’s chamber, if the man or woman is of an equal status, you will bow. If they are of higher status, you will kneel at least once (one knee, the right, all the way to the ground). If you are being led before the king, especially if you are not already familiar with him, you will kneel on entry to the chamber or hall, then progress to the middle of the room, stop, and kneel again. If the king wishes to speak to you, he will beckon you forward. When the chamberlain tells you to stop, do so and kneel again, three times. Wait until you are spoken to; do not address the king first. When you are requested to speak, always begin with a greeting, such as “God speed, my lord.” Bow on each occasion you are requested to speak. Do not avert your eyes from the person of the king: you should look at him directly and honestly (as with everyone else of equal or higher social standing, unlike in later centuries). Never, ever, turn your back on a social superior. To do so is simply rude.
If you are invited to remain some time in the court of a great lord, you will end up spending a lot of time standing around. When this happens, do not sit down until the most important person present gives you permission to do so. This is not necessarily the lord; if the king or queen or any other superior is visiting the same house, and is present, then the social courtesies of rank are automatically due to the king or queen, not the man whose house it is. If a man who is superior in rank to you enters, move back and make room for him to stand nearer the lord or lady than you. When doing all this standing around, remember not to let your eyes wander around the room. Similarly don’t scratch yourself or lean against a column or a wall. Do not pick your nose, teeth, or nails or spit indoors. Unless you are yourself of a high rank, or very familiar with the most socially elevated person present, be circumspect in your actions and gestures. Everything can be held against you as a mark of disrespect. And it is for the social superior to decide what is or is not disrespectful, not you.
There is no hard and fast line between behavior as a mark of respect and as a sign of general politeness; rather, one shades into the other. Consequently you need to know how to behave at table, especially when dining in the company of socially refined people. Forget all the myths you have heard about greedily gnawing large joints of beef and chicken and hurling the bones around the medieval hall. In no household is such behavior considered decent. There are strict rules of etiquette to be obeyed. You must wash your hands immediately before every meal. Cut your bread, do not break it. When offered a drink, wipe your mouth first before lifting the cup. Do not lean on the table. When the various courses are set before you, do not grab all the best bits and keep them for yourself but select them from the bowls one at a time. Do not pick them up and dip them in the salt—that is such poor behavior it will be considered disrespectful to the householder. Remember also the general marks of respect, such as not to speak with your mouth full or to talk to anyone when they are drinking. If you are offered a drink from the cup of a social superior, wipe your mouth, accept it, and then pass it back. Do not pass the cup on to another person; it is a sign of the lord’s favor and meant only for you.9
For women there are other forms of politeness. It is not seemly for women to swear. Although the Wife of Bath does so, unless you are an independent widow, like her, you are likely to get into trouble for it, for it will bring shame on your husband or father. Young women should not toss their heads nor wriggle their shoulders, nor allow their hands to be touched by a man who is not of their family; and drunkenness in women outside the home is considered shocking. Similarly women should not attend public wrestling matches or enter into conversations with strangers, as they are likely to acquire a bad reputation. Women outside the home should normally be accompanied, walking arm in arm with either a male member of the family or a female companion.
Body language is often very differently interpreted by fourteenth-century people. Men and women cry when they are deeply saddened or grief stricken, of course; but you will also find people weeping for less emotional reasons. When a merchant or person in authority wishes to extort a financial due or a service you have promised, he may well weep on account of the distress it gives him to h
ave to exact the full payment. Raising your arms to the sky is another element of body language that is subtly different: in the Middle Ages it is a sign of thanks to God, and thus connected with relief, not despair. Few people shake hands on greeting each other; rather, shaking hands is a demonstration of mutual agreement in front of witnesses.10 kissing between men needs a specific context: when men kiss in public it is a sign of peace, an acknowledgment of fealty or service, or a ceremonial act. It is not simply a greeting. Nor does it have any sexual connotations. A man publicly kissing a woman who is not of his family, however, does have sexual connotations, and so you should refrain from greeting an acquaintance of the opposite sex with a big kiss in public. Even a peck on the cheek will raise eyebrows.
Greeting People
Initial impressions count. If you are overfriendly or cold on first meeting somebody, you are likely to affect your relationship with that person in future. The best advice on this subject is to be found in a French-English dialogue book, which contains a number of phrases to be used on greeting people. For example: When you go by the streets, and you meet anyone you know, or anyone of your acquaintance, be swift and ready to greet him or them first, if he or they be men of valour. Doff your hood for ladies and damoiselles; if they doff theirs, so set your own on again. In such manner may you salute them: ‘Sire, God you keep!’ That is the shortest that one may say to people in greeting. Or at other times:
