The People For Whom Shakespeare Wrote

C >> Charles Dudley Warner >> The People For Whom Shakespeare Wrote


In Harrison's time the greater part of the building in cities and towns
was of timber, only a few of the houses of the commonalty being of stone.
In an old plate giving a view of the north side of Cheapside, London, in
1638, we see little but quaint gable ends and rows of small windows set
close together. The houses are of wood and plaster, each story
overhanging the other, terminating in sharp pediments; the roofs
projecting on cantilevers, and the windows occupying the whole front of
each of the lower stories. They presented a lively and gay appearance on
holidays, when the pentices of the shop fronts were hung with colored
draperies, and the balconies were crowded with spectators, and every pane
of glass showed a face. In the open country, where timber was scarce, the
houses were, between studs, impaneled with clay-red, white, or blue. One
of the Spaniards who came over in the suite of Philip remarked the large
diet in these homely cottages: "These English," quoth he, "have their
houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare commonly so well as the
king." "Whereby it appeareth," comments Harrison, "that he liked better
of our good fare in such coarse cabins, than of their own thin diet in
their prince-like habitations and palaces." The timber houses were
covered with tiles; the other sort with straw or reeds. The fairest
houses were ceiled within with mortar and covered with plaster, the
whiteness and evenness of which excited Harrison's admiration. The walls
were hung with tapestry, arras-work, or painted cloth, whereon were
divers histories, or herbs, or birds, or else ceiled with oak. Stoves had
just begun to be used, and only in some houses of the gentry, "who build
them not to work and feed in, as in Germany and elsewhere, but now and
then to sweat in, as occasion and need shall require." Glass in windows,
which was then good and cheap, and made even in England, had generally
taken the place of the lattices and of the horn, and of the beryl which
noblemen formerly used in windows. Gentlemen were beginning to build
their houses of brick and stone, in stately and magnificent fashion. The
furniture of the houses had also grown in a manner "passing delicacy,"
and not of the nobility and gentry only, but of the lowest sort. In
noblemen's houses there was abundance of arras, rich hangings of
tapestry, and silver vessels, plate often to the value of one thousand
and two thousand pounds. The knights, gentlemen, and merchants had great
provision of tapestry, Turkie work, pewter, brass, fine linen, and
cupboards of plate worth perhaps a thousand pounds. Even the inferior
artificers and many farmers had learned also to garnish their cupboards
with plate, their joined beds with silk hangings, and their tables with
fine linen--evidences of wealth for which Harrison thanks God and
reproaches no man, though he cannot see how it is brought about, when all
things are grown to such excessive prices.

Old men of Radwinter noted three things marvelously altered in England
within their remembrance. The first was the multitude of chimneys lately
erected; whereas in their young days there were not, always except those
in the religious and manor houses, above two or three chimneys in most
upland towns of the realm; each one made his fire against a reredos in
the hall, where he dined and dressed his meat. The second was the
amendment in lodging. In their youth they lay upon hard straw pallets
covered only with a sheet, and mayhap a dogswain coverlet over them, and
a good round log for pillow. If in seven years after marriage a man could
buy a mattress and a sack of chaff to rest his head on, he thought
himself as well lodged as a lord. Pillows were thought meet only for sick
women. As for servants, they were lucky if they had a sheet over them,
for there was nothing under them to keep the straw from pricking their
hardened hides. The third notable thing was the exchange of treene
(wooden) platters into pewter, and wooden spoons into silver or tin.
Wooden stuff was plenty, but a good farmer would not have above four
pieces of pewter in his house; with all his frugality, he was unable to
pay his rent of four pounds without selling a cow or horse. It was a time
of idleness, and if a farmer at an alehouse, in a bravery to show what he
had, slapped down his purse with six shillings in it, all the rest
together could not match it. But now, says Harrison, though the rent of
four pounds has improved to forty, the farmer has six or seven years'
rent, lying by him, to purchase a new term, garnish his cupboard with
pewter, buy three or four feather-beds, coverlets, carpets of tapestry, a
silver salt, a nest of bowls for wine, and a dozen spoons. All these
things speak of the growing wealth and luxury of the age. Only a little
before this date, in 1568, Lord Buckhurst, who had been ordered to
entertain the Cardinal de Chatillon in Queen Elizabeth's palace at Sheen,
complains of the meanness of the furniture of his rooms. He showed the
officers who preceded the cardinal such furniture and stuff as he had,
but it did not please them. They wanted plate, he had none; such glass
vessels as he had they thought too base. They wanted damask for long
tables, and he had only linen for a square table, and they refused his
square table. He gave the cardinal his only unoccupied tester and
bedstead, and assigned to the bishop the bedstead upon which his wife's
waiting-women did lie, and laid them on the ground. He lent the cardinal
his own basin and ewer, candlesticks from his own table,
drinking-glasses, small cushions, and pots for the kitchen. My Lord of
Leicester sent down two pair of fine sheets for the cardinal and one pair
for the bishop.

Harrison laments three things in his day: the enhancing of rents, the
daily oppression of poor tenants by the lords of manors, and the practice
of usury--a trade brought in by the Jews, but now practiced by almost
every Christian, so that he is accounted a fool that doth lend his money
for nothing. He prays the reader to help him, in a lawful manner, to hang
up all those that take cent. per cent. for money. Another grievance, and
most sorrowful of all, is that many gentlemen, men of good port and
countenance, to the injury of the farmers and commonalty, actually turn
Braziers, butchers, tanners, sheep-masters, and woodmen. Harrison also
notes the absorption of lands by the rich; the decay of houses in the
country, which comes of the eating up of the poor by the rich; the
increase of poverty; the difficulty a poor man had to live on an acre of
ground; his forced contentment with bread made of oats and barley, and
the divers places that formerly had good tenants and now were vacant,
hop-yards and gardens.

Harrison says it is not for him to describe the palaces of Queen
Elizabeth; he dare hardly peep in at her gates. Her houses are of brick
and stone, neat and well situated, but in good masonry not to be compared
to those of Henry VIII's building; they are rather curious to the eye,
like paper-works, than substantial for continuance. Her court is more
magnificent than any other in Europe, whether you regard the rich and
infinite furniture of the household, the number of officers, or the
sumptuous entertainments. And the honest chronicler is so struck with
admiration of the virtuous beauty of the maids of honor that he cannot
tell whether to award preeminence to their amiable countenances or to
their costliness of attire, between which there is daily conflict and
contention. The courtiers of both sexes have the use of sundry languages
and an excellent vein of writing. Would to God the rest of their lives
and conversation corresponded with these gifts! But the courtiers, the
most learned, are the worst men when they come abroad that any man shall
hear or read of. Many of the gentlewomen have sound knowledge of Greek
and Latin, and are skillful in Spanish, Italian, and French; and the
noblemen even surpass them. The old ladies of the court avoid idleness by
needlework, spinning of silk, or continual reading of the Holy Scriptures
or of histories, and writing diverse volumes of their own, or translating
foreign works into English or Latin; and the young ladies, when they are
not waiting on her majesty, "in the mean time apply their lutes,
citherns, pricksong, and all kinds of music." The elders are skillful in
surgery and the distillation of waters, and sundry other artificial
practices pertaining to the ornature and commendation of their bodies;
and when they are at home they go into the kitchen and supply a number of
delicate dishes of their own devising, mostly after Portuguese receipts;
and they prepare bills of fare (a trick lately taken up) to give a brief
rehearsal of all the dishes of every course. I do not know whether this
was called the "higher education of women" at the time.

In every office of the palaces is a Bible, or book of acts of the church,
or chronicle, for the use of whoever comes in, so that the court looks
more like a university than a palace. Would to God the houses of the
nobles were ruled like the queen's! The nobility are followed by great
troops of serving-men in showy liveries; and it is a goodly sight to see
them muster at court, which, being filled with them, "is made like to the
show of a peacock's tail in the full beauty, or of some meadow garnished
with infinite kinds and diversity of pleasant flowers." Such was the
discipline of Elizabeth's court that any man who struck another within it
had his right hand chopped off by the executioner in a most horrible
manner.

The English have always had a passion for gardens and orchards. In the
Roman time grapes abounded and wine was plenty, but the culture
disappeared after the Conquest. From the time of Henry IV. to Henry VIII.
vegetables were little used, but in Harrison's day the use of melons,
pompions, radishes, cucumbers, cabbages, turnips, and the like was
revived. They had beautiful flower-gardens annexed to the houses, wherein
were grown also rare and medicinal herbs; it was a wonder to see how many
strange herbs, plants, and fruits were daily brought from the Indies,
America and the Canaries. Every rich man had great store of flowers, and
in one garden might be seen from three hundred to four hundred medicinal
herbs. Men extol the foreign herbs to the neglect of the native, and
especially tobacco, "which is not found of so great efficacy as they
write." In the orchards were plums, apples, pears, walnuts, filberts; and
in noblemen's orchards store of strange fruit-apricots, almonds, peaches,
figs, and even in some oranges, lemons, and capers. Grafters also were at
work with their artificial mixtures, "dallying, as it were, with nature
and her course, as if her whole trade were perfectly known unto them: of
hard fruits they will make soft, of sour sweet, of sweet yet more
delicate; bereaving also some of their kernels, others of their cores,
and finally endowing them with the flavor of musk, amber, or sweet spices
at their pleasure." Gardeners turn annual into perpetual herbs, and such
pains are they at that they even used dish-water for plants. The Gardens
of Hesperides are surely not equal to these. Pliny tells of a rose that
had sixty leaves on one bud, but in 1585 there was a rose in Antwerp that
had one hundred and eighty leaves; and Harrison might have had a slip of
it for ten pounds, but he thought it a "tickle hazard." In his own little
garden, of not above three hundred square feet, he had near three hundred
samples, and not one of them of the common, or usually to be had.

Our kin beyond sea have always been stout eaters of solid food, and in
Elizabeth's time their tables were more plentifully laden than those of
any other nation. Harrison scientifically accounts for their inordinate
appetite. "The situation of our region," he says, "lying near unto the
north, does cause the heat of our stomachs to be of somewhat greater
force; therefore our bodies do crave a little more ample nourishment than
the inhabitants of the hotter regions are accustomed withal, whose
digestive force is not altogether so vehement, because their internal
heat is not so strong as ours, which is kept in by the coldness of the
air, that from time to time (specially in winter) doth environ our
bodies." The north Britons in old times were accustomed often to great
abstinence, and lived when in the woods on roots and herbs. They used
sometimes a confection, "whereof so much as a bean would qualify their
hunger above common expectation"; but when they had nothing to qualify it
with, they crept into the marsh water up to their chins, and there
remained a long time, "only to qualify the heat of their stomachs by
violence."

In Harrison's day the abstemious Welsh had learned to eat like the
English, and the Scotch exceeded the latter in "over much and
distemperate gormandize." The English eat all they can buy, there being
no restraint of any meat for religion's sake or for public order. The
white meats--milk, butter, and cheese--though very dear, are reputed as
good for inferior people, but the more wealthy feed upon the flesh of all
sorts of cattle and all kinds of fish. The nobility ("whose cooks are for
the most part musical-headed Frenchmen and strangers ") exceed in number
of dishes and change of meat. Every day at dinner there is beef, mutton,
veal, lamb, kid, pork, conie, capon, pig, or as many of these as the
season yielded, besides deer and wildfowl, and fish, and sundry
delicacies "wherein the sweet hand of the seafaring Portingale is not
wanting." The food was brought in commonly in silver vessels at tables of
the degree of barons, bishops, and upwards, and referred first to the
principal personage, from whom it passed to the lower end of the table,
the guests not eating of all, but choosing what each liked; and nobody
stuffed himself. The dishes were then sent to the servants, and the
remains of the feast went to the poor, who lay waiting at the gates in
great numbers.

Drink was served in pots, goblets, jugs, and bowls of silver in
noblemen's houses, and also in Venice glasses. It was not set upon the
table, but the cup was brought to each one who thirsted; he called for
such a cup of drink as he wished, and delivered it again to one of the
by-standers, who made it clean by pouring out what remained, and restored
it to the sideboard. This device was to prevent great drinking, which
might ensue if the full pot stood always at the elbow. But this order was
not used in noblemen's halls, nor in any order under the degree of knight
or squire of great revenue. It was a world to see how the nobles
preferred to gold and silver, which abounded, the new Venice glass,
whence a great trade sprang up with Murano that made many rich. The
poorest even would have glass, but home-made--a foolish expense, for the
glass soon went to bits, and the pieces turned to no profit. Harrison
wanted the philosopher's stone to mix with this molten glass and toughen
it.

There were multitudes of dependents fed at the great houses, and
everywhere, according to means, a wide-open hospitality was maintained.
Froude gives a notion of the style of living in earlier times by citing
the details of a feast given when George Neville, brother of Warwick the
king-maker, was made archbishop of York. There were present, including
servants, thirty-five hundred persons. These are a few of the things used
at the banquet: three hundred quarters of wheat, three hundred tuns of
ale, one hundred and four tuns of wine, eighty oxen, three thousand
geese, two thousand pigs,--four thousand conies, four thousand
heronshaws, four thousand venison pasties cold and five hundred hot, four
thousand cold tarts, four thousand cold custards, eight seals, four
porpoises, and so on.

The merchants and gentlemen kept much the same tables as the nobles,
especially at feasts, but when alone were content with a few dishes. They
also desired the dearest food, and would have no meat from the butcher's
but the most delicate, while their list of fruits, cakes, Gates, and
outlandish confections is as long as that at any modern banquet. Wine ran
in excess. There were used fifty-six kinds of light wines, like the
French, and thirty of the strong sorts, like the Italian and Eastern. The
stronger the wine, the better it was liked. The strongest and best was in
old times called theologicum, because it was had from the clergy and
religious men, to whose houses the laity sent their bottles to be filled,
sure that the religious would neither drink nor be served with the worst;
for the merchant would have thought his soul should have gone straightway
to the devil if he had sent them any but the best. The beer served at
noblemen's tables was commonly a year old, and sometimes two, but this
age was not usual. In households generally it was not under a month old,
for beer was liked stale if it were not sour, while bread was desired as
new as possible so that it was not hot.

The husbandman and artificer ate such meat as they could easiest come by
and have most quickly ready; yet the banquets of the trades in London
were not inferior to those of the nobility. The husbandmen, however,
exceed in profusion, and it is incredible to tell what meat is consumed
at bridals, purifications, and such like odd meetings; but each guest
brought his own provision, so that the master of the house had only to
provide bread, drink, houseroom, and fire. These lower classes Harrison
found very friendly at their tables--merry without malice, plain without
Italian or French subtlety--so that it would do a man good to be in
company among them; but if they happen to stumble upon a piece of venison
or a cup of wine or very strong beer, they do not stick to compare
themselves with the lord-mayor--and there is no public man in any city of
Europe that may compare with him in port and countenance during the term
of his office.

Harrison commends the great silence used at the tables of the wiser sort,
and generally throughout the realm, and likewise the moderate eating and
drinking. But the poorer countrymen do babble somewhat at table, and
mistake ribaldry and loquacity for wit and wisdom, and occasionally are
cup-shotten; and what wonder, when they who have hard diet and small
drink at home come to such opportunities at a banquet! The wealthier sort
in the country entertain their visitors from afar, however long they
stay, with as hearty a welcome the last day as the first; and the
countrymen contrast this hospitality with that of their London cousins,
who joyfully receive them the first day, tolerate them the second, weary
of them the third, and wish 'em at the devil after four days.

The gentry usually ate wheat bread, of which there were four kinds, and
the poor generally bread made of rye, barley, and even oats and acorns.
Corn was getting so dear, owing to the forestallers and middlemen, that,
says the historian, "if the world last a while after this rate, wheat and
rye will be no grain for poor men to feed on; and some catterpillers
[two-legged speculators] there are that can say so much already."

The great drink of the realm was, of course, beer (and it is to be noted
that a great access of drunkenness came into England with the importation
much later of Holland gin) made from barley, hops, and water, and upon
the brewing of it Harrison dwells lovingly, and devotes many pages to a
description of the process, especially as "once in a month practiced by
my wife and her maid servants." They ground eight bushels of malt, added
half a bushel of wheat meal, half a bushel of oat meal, poured in eighty
gallons of water, then eighty gallons more, and a third eighty gallons,
and boiled with a couple of pounds of hops. This, with a few spices
thrown in, made three hogsheads of good beer, meet for a poor man who had
only forty pounds a year. This two hundred gallons of beer cost
altogether twenty shillings; but although he says his wife brewed it
"once in a month," whether it lasted a whole month the parson does not
say. He was particular about the water used: the Thames is best, the
marsh worst, and clear spring water next worst; "the fattest standing
water is always the best." Cider and perry were made in some parts of
England, and a delicate sort of drink in Wales, called metheglin; but
there was a kind of "swish-swash" made in Essex from honey-combs and
water, called mead, which differed from the metheglin as chalk from
cheese.

In Shakespeare's day much less time was spent in eating and drinking than
formerly, when, besides breakfast in the forenoon and dinners, there were
"beverages" or "nuntion" after dinner, and supper before going to bed
--"a toie brought in by hardie Canutus," who was a gross feeder.
Generally there were, except for the young who could not fast till
dinnertime, only two meals daily, dinner and supper. Yet the Normans had
brought in the habit of sitting long at the table--a custom not yet
altogether abated, since the great people, especially at banquets, sit
till two or three o'clock in the afternoon; so that it is a hard matter
to rise and go to evening prayers and return in time for supper.

Harrison does not make much account of the early meal called "breakfast";
but Froude says that in Elizabeth's time the common hour of rising, in
the country, was four o'clock, summer and winter, and that breakfast was
at five, after which the laborers went to work and the gentlemen to
business. The Earl and Countess of Northumberland breakfasted together
and alone at seven. The meal consisted of a quart of ale, a quart of
wine, and a chine of beef; a loaf of bread is not mentioned, but we hope
(says Froude) it may be presumed. The gentry dined at eleven and supped
at five. The merchants took dinner at noon, and, in London, supped at
six. The university scholars out of term ate dinner at ten. The
husbandmen dined at high noon, and took supper at seven or eight. As for
the poorer sort, it is needless to talk of their order of repast, for
they dined and supped when they could. The English usually began meals
with the grossest food and ended with the most delicate, taking first the
mild wines and ending with the hottest; but the prudent Scot did
otherwise, making his entrance with the best, so that he might leave the
worse to the menials.

I will close this portion of our sketch of English manners with an
extract from the travels of Hentzner, who visited England in 1598, and
saw the great queen go in state to chapel at Greenwich, and afterwards
witnessed the laying of the table for her dinner. It was on Sunday. The
queen was then in her sixty-fifth year, and "very majestic," as she
walked in the splendid procession of barons, earls, and knights of the
garter: "her face, oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her eyes small, yet black
and pleasant; her nose a little hooked; her lips narrow, and her teeth
black (a defect the English seem subject to from their great use of
sugar). She had in her ears two pearls with very rich drops; she wore
false hair, and that red; upon her head she had a small crown, reported
to be made of some of the gold of the celebrated Lunebourg table. Her
bosom was uncovered, as all the English ladies have it till they marry;
and she had on a necklace of exceeding fine jewels; her hands were small,
her fingers long, and her stature neither small nor low; her air was
stately, her manner of speaking mild and obliging. That day she was
dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls of the size of beans, and
over it a mantle of black silk, shot with silver threads; her train was
very long, and the end of it borne by a marchioness; instead of a chain
she had an oblong collar of gold and jewels." As she swept on in this
magnificence, she spoke graciously first to one, then to another, and
always in the language of any foreigner she addressed; whoever spoke to
her kneeled, and wherever she turned her face, as she was going along,
everybody fell down on his knees. When she pulled off her glove to give
her hand to be kissed, it was seen to be sparkling with rings and jewels.
The ladies of the court, handsome and well shaped, followed, dressed for
the most part in white; and on either side she was guarded by fifty
gentlemen pensioners with gilt battle-axes. In the ante-chapel, where she
graciously received petitions, there was an acclaim of "Long live Queen
Elizabeth!" to which she answered, "I thank you, my good people." The
music in the chapel was excellent, and the whole service was over in half
an hour. This is Hentzner's description of the setting out of her table:

"A gentleman entered the room bearing a rod, and along with him another
who had a table-cloth, which, after they had both kneeled three times, he
spread upon the table; and after kneeling again they both retired. Then
came two others, one with the rod again, the other with a salt-cellar, a
plate, and bread; and when they had kneeled as the others had done, and
placed what was brought upon the table, they two retired with the same
ceremonies performed by the first. At last came an unmarried lady (we
were told she was a countess) and along with her a married one, bearing a
tasting-knife; the former was dressed in white silk, who, when she had
prostrated herself three times, in the most graceful manner approached
the table, and rubbed the plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as
if the Queen had been present. When they had waited there a little while
the Yeomen of the Guard entered, bare-headed, clothed in scarlet, with a
golden rose upon their backs, bringing in at each turn a course of
twenty-four dishes, served in plate, most of it gilt; these dishes were
received by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed
upon the table, while the Lady Taster gave to each of the guard a
mouthful to eat, of the particular dish he had brought, for fear of, any
poison. During the time that this guard, which consists of the tallest
and stoutest men that can be found in all England, being carefully
selected for this service, were bringing dinner, twelve trumpets and two
kettle-drums made the hall ring for half an hour together. At the end of
all this ceremonial, a number of unmarried ladies appeared, who with
particular solemnity lifted the meat off the table and conveyed it into
the Queen's inner and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen
for herself, the rest goes to the Ladies of the court."