Poverty and Vagrancy in Tudor England

John F. Pound

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781317880721
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: World History
• Index: History

First published in 1986. The first edition of this work was in 1971. In the intervening years a number of books and articles have appeared which deal directly, or indirectly, with the subject of poverty in the early modern period, and the bibliography, in consequence, has been almost doubled. Some additional material (numbered from 78 onwards) and changes in emphasis have been incorporated into the text, and the Norwich material, in particular, has been revised and extended in the light of the author's own more recent research.

Part One: The Background

1 The Causes of Poverty

‘The most immediate and pressing concern of government … for something more than a century (1520–1640) was with the problem of vagrancy. There is no doubt whatever that vagabondage was widespread, that it was organised and that it imposed on rural and village communities burdens and dangers with which they could not cope’ (18, p. 78). Thus, with some exaggeration, Professor Jordan describes a problem which, combined with the much larger one of poverty in general, led to the frequent denunciation of those allegedly responsible; to various experiments by the larger towns, most of which had only limited success; to governmental legislation which, initially almost entirely repressive, gradually evolved into the great Elizabethan poor laws of 1598 and 1601; and, finally, gave an impetus to that great outpouring of mercantile charity which, more than anything else, kept the problem within reasonable bounds.

Poverty and vagrancy were not, of course, peculiar to the sixteenth century, despite the frequent protests and intermittent government action during the period. Before the fifteenth century had run its course a number of factors, ranging from the social upheavals following the Black Death to the disruptions caused by the Wars of the Roses, had combined to produce a class of itinerant beggars. Many genuinely sought work which was not available in their own locality. Some married; others dispensed with this formality. Either way, their children grew up knowing no other way of life. By the beginning of the sixteenth century virtually every corner of England had its share of these professional beggars. They were particularly numerous in the region of the larger towns, and as the century progressed their ranks were swelled still further by a number of events, some of national, some of local importance.

Retainers and ex-servicemen

Many vagrants were relatively passive individuals, a nuisance to the people they begged from, but little more than this. There were exceptions, however, and the most dangerous of these were the vagrants that had been trained in arms. Very broadly speaking, they fall into two categories: those who were ex-retainers of the great noble households, and the increasing number who had been involved in warfare from the reign of Henry VIII onwards. Obviously only a proportion, possibly a small proportion, of such people would have resorted to vagrancy, even as a temporary measure. But they had been used to warfare, to an exciting, if dangerous, existence, and very probably to a higher standard of living than they would have experienced in civilian life. The prospect of returning to a humdrum existence as an artisan, with all its vagaries and uncertainties, possibly the prospect of returning to no job at all, must have persuaded many of the bolder among them to earn their living in an easier way.

The problem began with the ending of the Wars of the Roses and was accentuated by Henry VII's laws against livery and maintenance. The first Tudor was by no means entirely successful in his drive against the overmighty subjects, armed retainers being a feature of many seventeenth-century households, but the combination of Henry's zeal and their own mounting expenditure led many noblemen to adopt a policy of retrenchment. Redundant retainers were not easily absorbed into the local economy but, being the men they were, they did not accept the situation with good grace. As Sir Thomas More was to point out, ‘in the mean season they that be thus destitute of service either starve for hunger, or manfully play the thieves’ (24). Not many ‘starved for hunger’ if they could possibly avoid it.

Vagrants with this background became progressively more numerous as the century progressed, if only for the obvious reason that increasing warfare led in its turn to ever greater numbers of demobilised soldiers and sailors flooding the labour market. These men were, if anything, more dangerous than the retainers. According to Edward Hext, the Somerset J. P., they numbered up to three or four hundred to a shire and were constantly pillaging the local inhabitants [doc. 7]. They were so strong that the enforcers of law and order were afraid to oppose them. Scores of them thronged the streets of the larger towns – London, perhaps inevitably, being particularly affected. They were especially troublesome in the years following the Armada. Thus in the summer of 1589, after the abortive expedition to Portugal, the returning soldiers were landed on the south coast. They were allowed to keep their arms and uniforms on the assumption that they would sell them to make up the deficiencies in their pay. Large numbers of them drifted up to London and a band of some five hundred threatened to loot Bartholomew Fair. It took two thousand City militiamen to deal with the immediate problem, and a proclamation threatening all mariners, soldiers and masterless men with death, unless they obtained passports to return home within two days, before the matter was finally dealt with. Even then, it was six months before the panic died down (20, xvii–xviii).

In due course, special provision was made for such people. Provost-marshals were appointed to apprehend and punish them, and on occasion special tribunals were held to inquire into their complaints. It was finally ordered that, on discharge at the port towns, all soldiers should be given a sum of money for their homeward journey and a licence permitting them to travel unmolested, provided they followed a specified route and arrived within a definite time. This was supplemented in 1593 by an Act which made general provision for pensions, as well as authorising local magistrates to provide financial aid to those in need on the way home, but it was stipulated that any soldier caught begging would forfeit his pension as a matter of course. Sensing the opportunity for gain, many vagabonds pretended to be soldiers, ultimately causing such confusion that the authorities were ordered to question all such people; genuine cases were to be provided with assistance, while the frauds among them were to be punished (2, p. 71). As with most causes of poverty in the sixteenth century, the problem of the demobilised soldier was one which waxed and waned. Normally it could be contained without too much difficulty. When it coincided with dearth and general economic depression it was another story. It was then that a man as level-headed as Edward Hext could be so frightened by the existing situation that he could write to Burghley with a prophecy of virtual disaster, and in so doing give an impression of general disorder that can all too easily be applied to the country at large and to the sixteenth century as a whole [doc. 7].

The rising population

The steady rise in population, in contrast, was an issue which affected much of the country and which increased in intensity as the century progressed. The rise was not constant. The severe influenza epidemic of 1557–8 actually reduced the population, with estimates of decline varying from 5 per cent at the national level to as much as 20 per cent in specific areas. Population growth was similarly affected by severe outbreaks of plague (Norwich lost some 30 per cent of its citizens in 1579–80 and was hit almost as badly at the turn of the century) and, to some extent, by harvest failure and famine in the 1590s. The overall rise is undeniable, however, and in Elizabeth's reign alone the increase may have been as high as 35 per cent (96, pp. 36–7).

Unfortunately the rise in population was not matched by a corresponding rise in employment opportunities. The position obviously varied from area to area, but in most districts too many people were pursuing too few jobs. Ironically, the difficulties were accentuated by the increasing demands for agricultural produce from the towns. The opportunities for profit encouraged landowners to undertake more intensive, more efficient farming, and in some cases, at least, increased efficiency led to surplus labour being summarily disposed of. Unless alternative occupations were available locally – and this was seldom the case – a man had no alternative but to seek employment elsewhere. The situation was made worse by the fact that as the century progressed more and more farm workers became dependent on wages as their sole form of income, and progressively fewer were guaranteed employment on their fathers' farms (34, p. 598).

The cloth industry

For those living in the cloth-producing districts of East Anglia, Yorkshire and the West Country, the problem was less acute. Steadily increasing demand from abroad provided work for thousands of men and, when necessary, for women and children as well. Norwich and its surrounding district thrived on the worsted industry. In Wiltshire, many families were wholly dependent on the cloth trade for their livelihood. Small towns as far apart as Totnes in Devon and Lavenham in Suffolk grew incredibly wealthy on the proceeds of the trade. As most of the people engaged in industrial activities of this sort also farmed on a small scale – and sometimes on a large one – there was much less fear of unemployment than in purely agricultural areas (26, p. 84).

The cloth industry was at the mercy of external events, however. A sudden bout of plague, an outbreak of war on the Continent, a series of bad harvests reducing a man's purchasing power, the great rivers temporarily blockaded: any or all of these could cause a sudden falling off in demand and set up a chain reaction resulting in wholesale unemployment for those least able to counteract it. The government realised the dangers and, where possible, insisted on merchants retaining their employees even when work was lacking. As Cecil was to point out, ‘the people [that] depend uppon makyng of cloth ar worss condition to be quyetly governed than the husband men’ (56, p. 166). Even so, riots could and did break out. At Lavenham in 1525, for example, the commotion was sufficiently serious for the Duke of Norfolk to have to quell it in person (14, p. 19).

Alternate booms and slumps were a feature of the first quarter of the sixteenth century, and even if a man could temporarily weather the storm there was no guarantee that his original job would again become available to him. The urban wage-earner was particularly vulnerable in this respect, and far more likely to have to resort to begging than his rural counterpart. Outside the towns, redundant textile workers might be able to find work on the land and a trade crisis could thus mean underemployment rather than unemployment for a family. However, in the 1590s places as far apart as Dedham in Essex and Kingswood in Wiltshire claimed to be largely dependent on the clothiers and found the poor rate a crushing burden (102, pp. 164–5).

Enclosures

Despite its vicissitudes, the cloth trade employed far more people than any other single occupation, with the possible exception of agriculture. Its very success, however, inevitably led more and more people to take an interest in it, and it was realised that far greater profits could be made from this source than from simple arable farming. It was confidently asserted that a man who enclosed his land and turned over his holding to sheep farming could expect a return half as great again as that derived from his previous pursuits.

Who will maintain husbandry which is the nurse of every county as long as sheep bring so great gain? Who will be at the cost to keep a dozen in his house to milk kine, make cheese, carry it to the market, when one poor soul may by keeping sheep get him a greater profit? Who will not be contented for to pull down houses of husbandry so that he may stuff his bags full of money? (26, p. 24)

According to contemporaries, far too many people were prepared to ‘pull down houses of husbandry’, and the conversion of arable land to pasture led to one of the most controversial issues of the whole sixteenth century. It was considered sufficiently important for parliamentary commissions to investigate the whole problem of enclosure in 1517, in 1548 and again in the early years of the seventeenth century. Writers as discerning as Sir Thomas More and John Hales were convinced that it was a great social evil and the cause of much distress. Bitter complaints were made of the depopulating activities of ruthless landlords who were so little concerned with the suffering of their tenants that they pulled down their houses around their ears and, on occasion, went so far as to depopulate whole villages. Deprived of their livelihood, many people had little alternative but to join the ranks of the itinerant vagabonds.

It must be said at once that such a picture is considerably overdrawn, and takes into account only part of the problem. Depopulation there certainly was, but the worst of it was already over by the accession of Henry VII in 1485. Many people did become vagabonds for the very good reason that there was no alternative local employment, but this is not to say that they permanently adopted that way of life. A number obtained jobs in other localities and, provided they did not become a strain on overtaxed local resources, the authorities concerned tended to turn a blind eye to such blatant evasion of their settlement laws. Not infrequently, the settlers occupied houses owned by the local aldermen. Even in the Midland counties which were worst affected – Bedfordshire, Leicestershire, Warwickshire, Berkshire, Northamptonshire and Oxfordshire – fewer than 3 per cent of the total area was enclosed (26, ch. 1 passim).

Nevertheless, when all factors have been taken into account, it remains true that a problem existed, and it would be over-cynical to dismiss it as of little or no importance. In Leicestershire alone one village in three was affected and far more than 3 per cent of the cultivable area of the Midlands as a whole was enclosed. In consequence, copyholders faced imminent or ultimate eviction. This class was particularly vulnerable. If they lived in the Midlands they were in the one major area where conversion of arable to pasture was still a paying proposition, the soil over much of the region being equally well adapted to both types of farming. Their vulnerability depended to a large extent on their particular type of holding. If a man possessed a sound title authorising him to pass on his holding to his heirs, and if his rent was fixed and his landlord was debarred from imposing an exorbitant entry fine on his successor, he was normally safe. Few people were as fortunate as this. Some held their property for a specified number of years, and could be easily evicted when the lease fell in. Others were safe enough themselves, their period of tenure covering the lives of themselves and their wives, and that of their immediate successor, but sooner or later their heirs faced either eviction or its virtual equivalent, the imposition of a prohibitive entry fine.

Such conditions caused very real hardship, but a word should perhaps be said for the ‘villains of the piece’, the squirearchy, who were responsible for between 60 and 70 per cent of the enclosure that took place. In a period of steadily rising prices, the copyholders with fixed rents could make increasing profits from their surplus produce. The landlords, in contrast, had to combat this price increase while their incomes remained virtually static. If they farmed their own demesne their difficulties were obviously diminished; if, in contrast, they relied solely, or primarily, on rents they could find themselves in trouble, even to the extent of falling into bankruptcy. It is hardly surprising that they sought compensation at the earliest possible moment, whether by raising rents or by converting their arable land to pasture and recouping themselves from the profits of sheep farming [doc. 3]. It should also be stressed that they were not the only enclosers. Many yeomen made substantial fortunes from the type of situation described. In due course, a number of them extended their holdings, usually by engrossing or joining together what had previously been two farms. Some eviction, with all its ensuing distress, inevitably followed. When the occasion arose, men of this class could be just as ruthless with their less fortunate neighbours as the worst of the surrounding gentry.

It follows that not all copyholders could be evicted at the same time. Their tenancies fell in at different periods and their heirs took over their property at widely differing intervals. They could, and on occasion did, have recourse to law if their rights were threatened. Even if the worst happened, many would ...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Dedication
• Seminar Studies in History
• Preface
• Introduction
• Part One: The Background
• Part Two: Descriptive Analysis
• Part Three: Assessment
• Part Four: Documents
• Bibliography
• Index
• Acknowledgements