Shire reeves and sheriffs

Buchel, Charles A.; Herbert Beerbohm Tree (1852-1917), as King John in ‘King John’ by William Shakespeare; Theatre Collection; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/herbert-beerbohm-tree-18521917-as-king-john-in-king-john-by-william-shakespeare-30514

By the time of Edward the Confessor the shire reeve was responsible for collecting royal taxes and collecting rents from royal lands across a hundred hides of land. With the passage of time, the reeve, a royal official, found himself taking pledges, or oaths, and keeping the peace for the hundred, or wapentake. They were also responsible, at least since the days of Cnut, for apprehending criminals and trying them in some locations. And just to confuse matters the term sheriff was also used from Cnut. Not all sheriffs, prior to the Conquest, possessed the same powers. It depended upon the aldermen and the earls of a region from whom the shire reeve, or sheriff, derived some of his power, not to mention the relationship that existed between the king, his earl and the shire reeve or sheriff. The latter might find himself working for both the king and the earl and their wishes were not always aligned. If a monarch was weak, then it was the local lord who wielded the power and to whom the sheriff/reeve would defer. Of more interest is that the post of sheriff is the oldest secular office in Crown employment.

And just as an aside, In 1066 it was Godric, Sheriff of Berkshire who led the shire levies for the county and who was killed at Hastings and it was Ansgar, Sheriff of London and Middlesex, who negotiated with Duke William (Morris, p27). Ansgar’s father had been London’s Port Reeve – essentially meaning sheriff of the town.

After the conquest the role of sheriff became much more clear cut. Roughly equating to Norman viscount (Morris, pp 41-42) the office evolved from the necessity of the Conqueor to continue the smooth administration of his new realm. William retained the services of the sheriffs and shire reeves who served Edward and Harold unless they had fought against him during the conquest. Ansgar, once one of the most powerful men in England, was dismissed from his post and imprisoned. His ancestry was Danish which made him dangerous and he appears to have spent the rest of his life in custody while his lands were given by William the Conqueror to his own men. Geoffrey de Mandeville became sheriff in his place.

Most sheriffs at the start of their documented existence in Anglo-Saxon England were men of moderate means but now they were often the most important man in the region they administrated. The only matters that they had no say on within their area of office was in Church law. Church land lay outside the jurisdiction of common law. The sheriff became the head of the judicial authority within a shire as well taking oaths such as the giving of the frank pledge, collecting royal taxes and enforcing the king’s will. By the time that Philip Marc became the hated High Sheriff of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire during the reign of King John, shrievalties were much sought after, often semi-inherited positions even though the post came with no pay. Their power, which came from farming taxes, meant that they were able to keep a hefty portion for themselves.

And why you might wonder have I deviated to sheriffs? Well, mainly because several members of the Fairfax family were sheriffs of York during the latter Middle Ages and the Tudor period. By the end of the Tudor period, sheriffs retained their role ensuring law and order but it was the newly appointed Lords Lieutenants who dealt with military matters from 1547 onwards. Even then it was only in 1908 that the latter became more important, administratively, than sheriffs. Sheriffs, who also had the responsibility of returning a county’s two members of Parliament, often served in that office as well as being sheriff.

Morris, William A. The Medieval Sheriff to 1300. (1968)

Sir John Hardyng – soldier, diplomat, map maker, spy

File:Bodleian Libraries, Central Scotland.jpg
Bodleian Library MS. Arch. Send. B. 10, for. 184r Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Hardyng was born in Northumberland and, at the age of 12, was at the battle of Shrewsbury in 1403 in service to Hotspur. Having survived the battle, he entered service to Sir Robert Umfraville who was closely associated with the Percy family. Hardyng found himself taking part in Anglo-Scottish hostilities as well as the Hundred Years War under the command of Henry V. In between making war on the Scots, Umfraville was also sent north of the border on diplomatic missions. Later, when he wrote his chronicles, Hardny would describe Umfraville as the perfect knight.

In 1418, Henry V sent Hardyng to Scotland to complete a topological survey and to find evidence of English overlordship of Scotland. Hardyng remained there for three and a half years making his map – designed to assist with an English invasion as well as unearthing (writing them himself) documents evidencing English claims to political overlordship of the Scots. Unfortunately he had to wait until the 1440s for his reward due to Henry V’s death. Little wonder that his chronicle makes much of the fact that he personally retrieved, at great personal risk, the all important documents from Scotland. He even claimed that James I of Scotland would have given 1000 marks of gold for the documents. Among the documents to survive is a forged letter granting him safe conduct to enter James I’s presence whenever he was in Scotland and to stay in the country for 40 days with six servants and horses – so no imagining a solitary spy surveying the landscape.

Having been granted the manor of Geddington in Northamptonshire and a pension of £10, Hardyng retired to the Augustinian priory at Kyme in Liincolnshire where he began to write his history of England. This was presented to Henry VI on 1457 together with his map of Scotland and those largely forged documents pertaining to overlordship. Hardying sought to promote political unity within his own country by allying English political factions against the Scots – working on the premise that war across the border would bring about peace at home. His forged documents provided a watertight rationale and he handily provided a map that detailed distances between military objectives, castles and rivers. While not to scale, and the drawings of the fortifications more akin to fantasy than reality, the map was both an itinerary for invasion and a visual encouragement for the English. On this occasion he received an additional annual pension from the Crown of £20.

Undeterred by the decade’s hostilities, not to mention the change from the House of Lancaster to the House of York on the throne in 1461, Hardying continued to polish his histories, happily explaining Edward IV’s pedigree as a way of winning the new monarch’s approval. The end result was two historical chronicles in rhyming couplets – I am truly thankful I don’t have to blog in rhyme- and a colourful history of a man who as well as being all the things in the title was also something of an antiquarian he was also the first chronicler to detail a quest for the Holy Grail and would provide Sir Thomas Malory with a source for his story about King Arthur.

Armstrong, Jackson, W. England’s Northern Frontier: Conflict and Society in the Fifteenth Century Scottish Marches. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020)

Palgrave, Francis, Sir. Documents and Records illustrating the History of Scotland and the Transactions Between the Crowns of Scotland and England. Volume I (Great Britain Record Commission: London, 1837)

Romsey Abbey

In 907 Edward the Elder founded a nunnery at Romsey. His daughter, Elfleda, became its first abbess. The nunnery was rebounded some sixty years later after a period of decline by King Edgar who established a group of Benedictine nuns there. Not that it was all plain sailing- the Danes attacked it once in 993 forcing the nuns to seek sanctuary in Winchester. When they returned, the nunnery was rebuilt from stone and the nuns continued to welcome the daughters of kings and nobles so that they might be educated.

By 1086, another Saxon princess was abbess at Romsey. Edward the Exile’s daughter, Christina, who originally went into exile with her sister Margaret to Scotland was at Romsey. Also in residence, receiving a royal education, were her nieces Edith and Mary. Edith would eventually become Henry I’s wife and take the name Matilda. The nuns continued to thrive during the Norman period. Between 1120 and 1140 work began on the current building including the choir, transepts and a Lady Chapel. The nave which was created at this time was extended between 1150 and 1180.

The nunnery was not without its scandals. In 1160, the abbess, Mary (a daughter of King Stephen) left her post to marry a son of the Earl of Flanders by whom she had two daughters before, according to Matthew Paris, returning to the abbey.

In 1349 the Black Death wrought havoc. At the end, only nineteen of the nuns remained. But the end came in the sixteenth century with the dissolution of the monasteries. The abbey church was saved because it became Romsey’s parish church when the town paid Henry VIII’s commissioners £100.

It means that today, despite damage done during the English Civil War, that the church is a beautiful example of Norman architecture with some wonderful Saxon features remaining, including a Saxon rood (cross) inside the church and an even older eleventh century one outside the building. There is also a capital depicting King Alfred’s victory over the Vikings at the Battle of Edington. The sixteenth century reredos screen, that was once on display behind the altar, was removed after 1539 and repurposed, surviving the destruction that occurred in many other churches at the time. Also among the survivals is a fifteenth century cope that was later turned into an altar cloth. It is made from Italian green velvet with hand embroidered stars of silver thread.

A more recent and no less beautiful addition is the Florence Nightingale window which was installed in 2020.

Cartularies – medieval maps and legal documents

Boarstall Cartulary map – held by the Centre for Buckinghamshire Studies.

It’s probably not a surprise that while I’m sorting out my thoughts for the forthcoming block of map Zoom classes that my mind should turn to monastic chartularies. These were portfolios recording monastic landownership. Essentially it was a collection of legal documents which did not always include maps but certainly included charters, deeds, land records and evidence of land transfer, privileges etc. They were usually bound in book form but on occasion the documents were attached together to make a roll. A fifteenth century map belonging to the London Charterhouse, the home of the Carthusians, depicts the monks’ water supply. The pipes crossed fields from springs to the monastery. One of the maps is a convenient 3 metres long. However, thus far it is the only map I can think of.

More famous as a map depicting a village is the chartulary map of Boarstall in Buckinghamshire. The chartulary was produced in 1444 for Edmund Rede of Boarstall but the map is older. In fact the map is the oldest surviving map of an English village and it tells the story of Nigel the Forester of Bernewood, one of Edmund Rede of Boarstall’s ancestors. Apparently a boar was terrorising the vicinity. Nigel killed the boar and presented its head to Edward the Confessor, who hunted in the forest where the boar lived. The map tells part of the story as well as depicting Nigel giving the head to the king and being rewarded and granted the charter of office of the forest of Bernewode.

Medieval marriage

The Medical History portal, about all things medieval and well worth a visit if you haven’t already been there, very kindly invited me to write a guest post for them – which I duly did. It can be found here:

Still stitching but with a detour to slander…

I’m still stitching my swirly dragon but have had to divert to knit several reindeer, a sleigh and Santa for the telephone box to be completed by the beginning of December – (don’t ask, it’s just best if I eventually post a picture.)

Medieval English work is principally associated with ecclesiastical embroidery but we have also looked at book covers, gloves, bags and pouches, and of course, boxes. These small personal items may have been made by professionals or in a domestic setting. I must admit to have a developing thing for 16th century sweet bags which were a development from my medieval meanderings!

I am particularly enthralled by William Huggins, Huggans or even Hogan, the Keeper of the Gardens at Hampton Court, presenting Elizabeth I with an annual New Year’s gift of sweet bags – these may have been quite small, as they could have been to contain potpurri to keep some of the less pleasant smells of court life at nose length. He began making his gifts in 1561 and continued until his death in 1588, whereupon Mrs Huggans is found listed as the annual gift giver. William also made sweet waters for Elizabeth.

Museum of London

The family originated in Norfolk. He can be found as a scholar with his brothers at Cambridge. He left without taking a degree and entered Lincoln’s Inn to train as a lawyer – rather than undertaking a horticultural course somewhere! In 1555 he was elected to parliament. It seems that his family’s patron was the 4th Duke of Norfolk (who was, coincidentally, married Thomas Audley’s only surviving daughter, Margaret).

Hogan had only the one job that has made its way into the history books – Keeper of Hampton Court Gardens, a place incidentally which Elizabeth I was very fond of. In 1564 he wrote to William Cecil. In May 1565 he received a grant of lands specifically to help pay his debts. He transferred them to Francis Barker, a Merchant Taylor. And then in 1588 he died…

There’s much more to be found out about William’s ‘brother’, John Appleyard, who was married to William’s sister, Elizabeth. It was on his behalf that William had written to Cecil in 1564 on the matter of a privateering venture. In 1567 the connection got William into a spot of bother when Appleyard agitated against the Earl of Leicester while he was staying with William at Hampton Court. At which point a light went on in my head! John Appleyard was one of Amy Robsart’s half brothers. And in 1567 he claimed that the jury, which found her death to have been accidental, had been bribed.

So, in one short step we’ve moved from embroidered bags and sweet water to bribery and murder, not to mention shadowy conspirators. Appleyard was interviewed, as indeed was William Huggans – who knew nothing. Appleyard admitted that he had slandered the Earl of Leicester (which was probably a very sensible decision under the circumstances). William was required to answer the following questions according to Cecil’s own notes:

How often did John Appleyard inform you of any offers made to him to provoke him to prosecute matter against my lord of Leicester? Where were you when Appleyard went over the Thames to speak with one that came to move him in such a purpose? Who came to fetch Appleyard? How many persons did you see on the other side of the Thames with Appleyard? Did Appleyard stand or walk whilst he communed with the party? &c., &c.

(‘Cecil Papers: 1567’, in Calendar of the Cecil Papers in Hatfield House: Volume 1, 1306-1571( London, 1883), British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/cal-cecil-papers/vol1/pp342-352 [accessed 13 November 2024].)

I’m not sure how to discuss embroidered household textiles after that massive diversion. Bed hangings, cushions and table carpets aren’t going to have quite the same impact and I’m not sure that even I can wedge heraldic embroidery, including banners, ceremonial clothing, regalia, funeral palls, surcoats and horse accessories, into the tribulations of Amy Robsart’s extended family.

For further reading on medieval embroidery, rather than the matter of Amy Robsart ( Chris Skidmore, Death and the Virgin is an excellent read on the subject) other than Tanya Benham and Jan Messent, and the V and A catalogue of their Opus Anglicanum exhibition:

– A.G. Christie’s English Medieval Embroidery, was until recently, the book on the medieval methods of embroidery. It can be accessed on line, which is very handy indeed:

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/20386/20386-h/20386-h.htm

And if you’re feeling particularly inspired Mary Symons Anrobus and Louisa Preece’s book dating from 1928 is also worth a look:

https://archive.org/details/needleworkthroug00antr

And last but not least, a real book rather than an online facsimile , Barbara Snook’s English Embroidery, published during the 1970s by Mills and Boon.

Medieval embroidered bags and purses

Purses could be used for carrying personal goods, for giving money to the poor – as in an alms purse or aumônière-, they could be used for storing religious relics or to carry seals.

The purses which survive are often heavily embroidered. They may have been produced by professional embroiderers, nuns or by a woman with sufficient funds to be able to buy the silks to make the purse herself. The alms purse of Marie de Picquigny (France 1342) worked on linen in silk and gold thread is on view at the Musee de Moyen Age, Cluny Paris. It would seem that women’s purses were most likely to be of the drawstring variety.

The Lovers’ Purse,  Hamburg, Museum fuer Kunst und Gewerbe 
Purse, Silk, linen, gold leaf, French
14th Century Purse The Met Cloisters, Metropolitan Museum of Art

They often depict a couple engaged in the pursuit of courtly love. In the first example the young man is offering his companion a ring while in the second the couple are playing a game with a hood. Stylised oak trees provide a garden setting – and a reminder of allegorical gardens of romance. The Lovers’ Purse dates from about 1340.

The Dominican Abbey at Poissy allowed its nuns to embroider purses for their visitors. Christine de Pizan’s daughter was nun at the convent and a companion to Princess Marie. The nuns were still producing embroidery when Mary Queen of Scots was a prisoner in England during the sixteenth century. She ordered coifs with gold and silver crowns on them (Owen, p.386).

In 1317 when Queen Jeanne of Burgundy was crowned her accounts show the purchase of 12 embroidered purses, 6 embroidered velvet purses, 6 embroidered samite purses and 16 other purses – most of which she must have given away as gifts (Farmer 87-88). Mahout of Artois gave away a purse embroidered with pearls in 1319. (Ibid, 88). Farmer returns to the topic in The Silk Industries of Medieval Paris (2016).

It should be noted that the production of highly decorated bags did not end in England with the Reformation. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were notable for highly decorated sweet bags.

https://threegoldbees.com/projects/embroidered-lovers-purse

Farmer, Sharon. ‘Small Mercery Goods,’ in Medieval Clothing and Textiles, volume 2. Gale R. Owen-Crocker, Robin Netherton (eds). (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2006)pp. 87-89

Owen, Mrs Henry & Egerton, Mary Margaret. The Illuminated Book of Needlework. Comprising Knitting, Netting, Crochet, and Embroidery. By Mrs. Henry Owen. Preceded by a History of Needlework, Including an Account of the Ancient Historical Tapestries. Edited by the Countess of Wilton. (London, 1847)

Volume 1

The Fishmongers’ Pall

I Spy Couching Stitch | PieceWork

The Fishmonger’s Pall was made specifically for the merchant’s guild, for use at the funeral of company members as the beginning of the sixteenth century . It is made from Italian cloth of gold and the four side panels which are linen are embroidered with silver gilt and silks. Unsurprisingly the embroidery has a ‘fishy’ theme. St Peter – the fisherman, appears at the top and bottom ends of the pall and there’s a mermaid and a merman as well as dolphins and the guild’s coat of arms. It was described in 1862 by the Gentleman’s Magazine as ‘perhaps as perfect a specimen of the various processes go embroidery as could be found anywhere, and the magnificent piece of cloth of gold and velvet forming the centre should be carefully noticed.’ (Vol 213, p.38).

Mermaid on Fishmonger's Pall embroidered with gold and silver wire

There is an awful lot of gold work in evidence. The couching creates density and texture while the embroidered figures composed of split stitches, satin stitches and brick stitch among others tell a story of immortality and a Christian soul on its journey to heaven -even the peacock feathers sported by the angels around St Peter speak of immortality and peacocks symbolise immortality because their feathers return better than ever each year. There are peacock feathers on the Toledo Cape as well – a reminder perhaps that just as the imogees and emoticons of today as readable there was an entire visual language of religion and belief which began to drain away with the Reformation. Perhaps just as important, the whole thing shouts abut the prestige of the Fishmonger’s Guild.

I Spy Couching Stitch | PieceWork

The embroiderer even used different kinds of gold thread to create the density of texture. Most gold thread was linen wrapped in sliver gilt ‘foil’ but they have also used drawn wires called ‘damask gold’ which doesn’t appear before the fourteenth century and purl thread which is a twisted coil of wire. It adds greater dimension to the coat of arms and crown. The embroideries themselves have a three dimensional look because there are padded areas that have been embroidered across. The mirror even shows a reflection because of the way that the silver thread surface of the mirror has been couched. For more information about embroidery stitches used on the pall follow http://www.zenzietinker.co.uk/opus-anglicanum/ which will open in a new tab. It also offers some excellent close up images of the pall.

Panel from the fishmonger's pall featuring a mermaid and merman worked in goldwork embroidery.

The fishmongers’ pall is not the only one in existence but it is certainly the finest because of the depth of its embroideries and the finesse with which the shading has been applied – it certainly has to make you wonder what was destroyed at the time of England’s Reformation. And it also goes to show that the Reformation took something of a toll on an industry that had thrived throughout the medieval period. The embroidery on the Fishmongers’ Pall have depth and nuance that develop the earlier forms, even though the themes and images may be the same.

V and A, English Medieval Embroidery Opus Anglicanum (London and New Haven: Yale University Press)

Embroidery for horses

Who would have thought that embroidery was something that an armourer might worry about? Clearly Sir Geoffrey Luttrell pictured at the start of the post would have understood. Records show that artists were commissioned to paint various flags and horse trappings for jousts – much less expensive than employing a posse of embroiderers and quicker as well. These might be stencilled or stamped, especially if many of the same thing was required.

Sir Geoffrey’s horse seems to be covered from the end of his ears to his tail. This item is a caparison or even a trapper. Clearly it was so that the audience at a joust was able to recognise each of the contestants and they clearly had their value on ceremonial occasions. Quilted caparisons became popular during the crusades as a practical part of its protection from arrows. The horse might also be equipped with a chainmail trapper – in which case a cloth draped over the mail also helped the horse not to overheat.

If embroidery was needed, the design might be hand drawn and then stitched. Layers might be appliquéd and then embroidered. The British Museum is home to the remnants of en embroidered medieval horse trapping showing the arms of William of Fortibus, Earl of Albemarle (d. 1260). The Museé de Cluny holds some fourteenth century horse trappings manufactured in England on a ground of red velvet depicting lions. These are heavily embroidered with gilt thread and date from the reign of Edward III. Records of heraldic horse-wear can be found in many royal account books of the medieval period including royal armourers records and the royal wardrobe accounts.

Alternative sources of information about what the well-dressed-medieval-horse-about-town was wearing include Froissart’s Chronicles which depict decorated horse trappings from the fifteenth century while Les Tres Riches Heures depicts 14th century trappings. I may admit to looking forward to revisiting several of my Books of Hours texts to see how much embroidery I can spot in the illustrations. Elaborate illustrations reveal tassels, as well as jagged or leaf like edges. The same illustrations depict decorative reins. Of course, my difficulty is then to find the associated images to illustrate this post…we’ll start with Froissart and the French jousts of St Ingelvert and the Salisbury Museum’s medieval illustration of a horse harness not to mention a rather wonderful tasselled saddle cloth which is just visible.

Now – I will admit that I didn’t think that I would travel seamlessly from a post about cope chests to another linked by embroidery threads and appliqué to caparisons!

Papal preference for English embroidery and pattern books

Pope Innocent IV AnonymousUnknown author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Matthew Paris, who wrote the Chronica Major, recorded in 1246 that the Pope Innocent IV had noticed that English bishops and priests were well kitted out with copes and mitres embroidered with gold thread in the ‘most desirable fashion’. Having discovered their source and described England as a ‘garden of delights’ the pope write to the abbots of the Cistercian order and demanded similar payment for himself, noting that he rather liked the gold work. By 1295 the Vatican had more than 100 vestments described as Opus Anglicanum and the English royal family had found a new and well received gift for the Holy Father of the day and nothing about the robes and vestments were cheap.

The Ascoli Cope at Ascoli Piceno, Italy belonged to Pope Gregory X and is a fine example of English work. It was a gift to him from King Edward I who also gave Nicholas IV and Boniface VIII lots of lovely embroidered goodies.

Survivals across Europe depict some of the richness of the vestments, not to mention the skills of the embroiderers. Samuel Pepys better known for his diaries and love of a buxom wench than his historical interest left papers to Magdalene College, Cambridge which included a book of drawings dating from the fourteenth and fifteenth century, including pattern sheets for medieval glaziers – there are designs for animals and birds, people, angels, the Virgin Mary, and various decorative motifs. During the Victorian period the idea that the designs might have been used for embroiderers was discounted but the images on Gothic stained glass windows are echoed by the glittering vestments worn by the clergy.

The idea behind a model book is that all the creative crafts could draw from the same designs and adapted according to the craft whether it was embroidery, window manufacture or illuminated manuscripts. You name the decorative craft – the chances are that a model book would have been useful, especially if you wanted to create the same design on several occasions – which would help reduce production time. Not everyone could afford to arrange for an artist or illustrator to draw the design on the fabric before it was embroidered.

The Göttingen Model Book which dates to about 1450 provides instruction on penmanship and illustration for the creation of foliage – which could be adapted by embroiderers. Just as today the model books were designed to help artisans learn a skill. Seven year apprenticeships were based on observation and ‘learning on the job’ but model and pattern books were essential for the transmission of images. They would also have been helpful for wealthy patrons who wanted to commission vestments. And, by the fourteenth century wealthy patrons wanted their own clothes richly embroidered as well.

It was really only during the sixteenth century that pattern books became widely available – and lets face it anyone who could afford it decorated everything that could be stitched but by then the heyday of English work was over.

Ascoli Cope, early 20th century (original dated 13th century) Italian, Watercolor on paper; 24 1/2 × 49 in. (62.2 × 124.5 cm) Framed: 26 in. × 50 7/8 in. × 1 1/2 in. (66 × 129.2 × 3.8 cm) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of J. Pierpont Morgan, 1906 (06.1313) http://www.metmuseum.org/Collections/search-the-collections/462871