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Allhallows London Wall, 1455–1536: Fundraising and collaboration

The records and the parish

Studies based on churchwardens’ accounts must deal with a basic fact: the records are inconsistent. A parish might acknowledge paying for a certain expenditure for several years and then not do so for one or two, or it might organize an annual festivity for years, and then that action disappears without explanation. Such patterns are not difficult to find and are often explained as the result of sloppy bookkeeping.¹ But what is one to make of people or groups who appear and disappear from churchwardens’ accounts? In the pre-Reformation records from Allhallows London Wall certain individuals or groups are recognized as contributing to fundraising in some years and not in others, and there seems to be more to that pattern than simply amateurish accounting practices. Included among those occasionally recognized are the parish’s resident anchorite, the parson, a parish fraternity, the wives of the parish (referred to as such), and, here and there, the names of individual men and women. These individuals and groups occasionally receive mention, usually when the churchwardens require assistance, but “the wives” and the anchorite appear, especially, when there is a need for extra income because of a construction project. From the perspective of the churchwardens, the coming and going of these sources of income most certainly represented evidence of collaboration in parish fundraising and governance, documented to an unusual degree. From our perspective, the records allow for a greater understanding of these apparently tangential agents in fundraising and a greater sense of the social dimension of the parish.

This irregular pattern represents a system at odds with modern expectations of consistent accounting methods and economic behavior.² The fluidity of the language and, indeed, the fluid form of the record-keeping become apparent at the beginning. The initial run of churchwardens’ accounts from Allhallows London Wall, also known as Allhallows on the Wall, reveals an approach to fundraising that required the generosity of many parishioners, but also shows that people played various roles, participated in different ways, and received recognition “inconsistently” because such notice depended on the churchwardens’ need to make ends meet. Some men’s names appear frequently, others once or twice, and some men are not specifically named at all but are referred to by various occupational markers.³ Women are identified as either someone’s wife, or widow, or aggregately as “the wives,” suggesting collective behavior by the more prominent women of the parish.⁴ The actions of these parishioners uniquely expressed their aspirations and combined with the area’s poor and marginal status to shape parish culture and society. Strategies for fundraising included group donations, and the incorporation of lists of donors occur throughout the accounts. Documentation of these meetings provides clues of complex social negotiations that, in the end, expressed a more collaborative approach to parish governance than appears in most London churchwardens’ accounts from the Tudor period.

This chapter, therefore, does two things at once. First, it explores the culture and society of a poor, marginal parish on the edge of London in the last decades before the changes of the Reformation. Rather than be constrained by limited circumstances, parishioners created several unique approaches to fundraising that not only raised revenues to pay for parish operations but helped to promote social coherence and connected their part of London to distant places. Thus (and second), it also explores parish strategies to raise funds and accomplish tasks while contextualizing them especially in the local culture—in essence, to detail the elastic accounting method in which people appear and disappear. This analytical approach will require an examination of the parish and its setting, the unique attributes of its community, the fundraising process, and, finally, an examination of particular attributes of parish culture, such as the anchorite, the core group of men who explicitly appear to offer stability in parish operation, the collection of Hock money,⁵ “the wives” of the parish who implicitly seem to offer stability in parish operations, the parish’s one religious fraternity documented in the churchwardens’ accounts, and the local saintly devotions. The social dimension of the late medieval religious practices and teaching transformed Allhallows London Wall into an impressive and active community, which receives its best documentation in the extant churchwardens’ accounts.

Parish fundraising usually had one predictable element: lines of income related to the dead. At Allhallows London Wall, churchwardens recorded a steady, but small source of income in burial fees, for interments both within the church and in the churchyard. The records further reveal three additional fundraising patterns that were not unique to the parish but found local expression in unique ways. The first of these was the appearance of occasional parish gatherings (collections) and donations; the second was income related to the presence of an anchorite in the pre-Reformation era; and the third was the collection of Hock Day money. The fundraising at Allhallows London Wall differed from that of the other city parishes, especially that of the much studied churchwardens’ accounts from Saint Mary at Hill, which featured as a main source of revenue the rent collections connected to properties that endowed the parish’s seven chantries.⁶ Allhallows London Wall documents one perpetual chantry and, without more consistent, institutionalized sources of revenue, such as income from parish properties, its approach to fundraising focused on parishioners: parish officials often had to react to problems; parish meetings negotiated approaches to numerous financial problems; the anchorite brought in money from outside the parish and exercised a moral authority in the community; and the wider population played a complicated but generous part as well.⁷

Location, neighborhood, and history

The church was close to Bishopsgate, which was just beyond the parish boundary; in fact, the oddly shaped parish was situated well to the west of the gate and the church was at the end of a slim stretch of territory that ran along the wall. Elizabethan author John Stow stated the parish and its church, located in Broadstreet Ward, “stands Eastward from the Little Postern leading into Moor-Fields.”⁸ Holy Trinity Cartulary provides evidence of the church’s existence to ca. 1127–34, while the current edifice dates to the eighteenth century, with extensive repairs conducted in the post-World War II era.⁹ The first mention of a churchyard dates to 1348.¹⁰ In the Tudor era, it was among the city’s less populated parishes, with an estimated 217 communicants in 1548, which would suggest an estimated parish population at ca. 289.¹¹ Its average fundraising revenue in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, as represented in the churchwardens’ accounts, was among the lowest in the city: £7 5 s. 10 d. annually. Among the parish’s most unusual attributes was the grant of a papal indulgence, an arrangement that has left little documentation. About 1486, Pope Innocent VIII offered parish visitors and benefactors a pardon that bestowed “seven years and seven Lents of pardon at All Saints, All Souls, the first Sunday after the Translation of St. Thomas of Canterbury, the feast of St. Cuthbert, and the parochial dedication day.” In 1486–87, the churchwardens paid a scrivener 20 d. for a “copy of owre bulle of ye pardone,” but only a small amount of indulgence money ever appears in the churchwardens’ accounts in the last years of the fifteenth century.¹² The few entries, according to Robert Swanson, are “intermittent” and “scrappy,” leaving the impression that the pardon money was usually dealt with in some other fashion, or else the indulgence failed to appeal to Londoners.¹³

The parish benefice was controlled by the prior of Holy Trinity Aldgate before the dissolution and afterwards by the Crown.¹⁴ The Carpenters’ Hall was one of the significant buildings in the parish, and the Carpenters’ Company is mentioned in the records occasionally, for example, they donated money for the beam light in 1492¹⁵ (Figure 1.1). While they undoubtedly influenced parish operations to some degree, it is difficult to gauge how much direct leadership either the company or individual carpenters may have exerted in parish culture; there also do not appear to be a great many wills by carpenters and certainly not many that made bequests to the parish.¹⁶ While carpenters had possessed an organization in that area of London for centuries, the company had only received its coat of arms in 1466 and its royal charter eleven years later in 1477, making it not as prestigious a company as some of the other companies of the city.¹⁷ The Carpenters probably maintained a worship space in the church since their patron saint was Saint Lawrence and Allhallows London Wall possessed an altar dedicated to that saint.¹⁸ A number of leatherworkers also lived in the parish as well, and the Leathersellers’ Hall was close by, but across the parish boundary.¹⁹ The Tilers and Bricklayers built their hall in the parish in 1476, but also make little impact in the churchwardens’ accounts.²⁰ Carpenters, leatherworkers, tilers, and the priory evidently failed to supply sufficient patronage to render the church a notable place of worship in the Tudor city. When Stow wrote his account of London and its heritage, he, unusually, had no descriptive comments or praise for the parish church. The church was, however, refurbished and “beautified” in the early seventeenth century (1613 and 1627).²¹

Figure 1.1 Allhallows London Wall parish, 1520

Also in the parish was the Hospital of Saint Augustine Papey, which became a home for sick and elderly priests. The edifice, once a parish church, had been converted, along with a few nearby houses, into a home for the brotherhood of poor priests and merged into the parish of Allhallows London Wall in 1441 with “the consent of the diocesan and its patrons, the prior and convent of Holy Trinity, Aldgate.”²² Home to sixty aged and infirm priests, the Papey, as it was known, provided food and shelter to them.²³ While it must have been a significant presence in the parish, the Papey carried little economic significance for the churchwardens.

Parishioners in this marginal neighborhood wrestled with numerous social ills.²⁴ In 1321 a woman killed a priest associated with Allhallows London Wall and then claimed sanctuary in the church, but the Bishop of London “repudiated” the claim, and she was taken away and hanged.²⁵ A few years later, Robert de Stratford, who owned a building in the parish, was accused of several criminal transgressions (although not necessarily in the parish of Allhallows London Wall), such as the keeping of prostitutes, selling ale illegally, and failing to maintain the standards of “the labour ordinance” of the cordwainer guild.²⁶ Wardmote presentations from Broadstreet Ward indicate that presentations tended to be “either against public hygiene or safety, or against the moral order.”²⁷ Two parishioners were charged in the Bishop’s consistory court for failure to pay their tithe in the 1520s.²⁸ As London’s population grew, so did the parish’s obligation to the poor, and, after the passage of the Act for Relief of the Poor, 1597, “[c]ollections leapt by 250 per cent,” providing some indication of the dire need of the poor in the parish.²⁹ In the early seventeenth century, the parish “put up ‘a bord’ listing households ‘that should send their servants to be catechized’” as a means to maintain discipline.³⁰ Also in the seventeenth century, Allhallows London Wall developed a reputation as the center for irregular marriages in the City.³¹ The evidence—admittedly thin—does not suggest that it was a particularly dodgy area, but the parishioners of Allhallows London Wall did require some attention from the city’s institutions.

Poor it might have been, but the parish elite had established a respectable worship space to serve the needs of their parish. The church contained one chapel dedicated to Allhallows, another to the Holy Trinity, an altar (and probably chapel) to Our Lady, and another to Saint Lawrence.³² There was a perpetual chantry established at the end of the fourteenth century by Thomas Godefrey, a carter, or conveyer or carrier of goods.³³ In 1472, Robert Ferbras, citizen and surgeon, left tenements and gardens in the parish of Allhallows London Wall to the Leathersellers’ Company, requesting the wardens and masters of the company to contribute 40 s. annually to feed prisoners. He also left a tenement jointly to his daughter, Joanna, and her husband, Richard Trent, a tiler, for the remainder of their lives, then the property was to go to the rector, churchwardens, and parishioners, jointly, of Allhallows London Wall to fund a light before the crucifix.³⁴ His name appears once in the churchwardens’ account: “for seyng of Robard ffarbraseys Testemente at ij tymys” 10 d. [1482–85].³⁵ In 1548, the royal commissioners who were collecting information on mortuary endowments for the government noted: “Obit and lamp: a tenement near London Wall called the Rose, given by Robert Farbras, £4 11s 4d p.a. Of which, 3s quitrent to the king. Clear remainder £4 7s 4d [sic] p.a.”³⁶ Of course, the parish dedication to All Hallows acknowledged a connection between the parishioners and the souls of the departed.

Parishioners had established devotional sites to certain saints within the church. The parish possessed a relic of Saint David encased in silver.³⁷ Saint David was an interesting saint to be honored in this parish; Welsh by birth, he had traveled to Jerusalem and received the gift of tongues.³⁸ Saint Lawrence, another prominent saint in the church, was a martyr from the late antique period and patron saint to many concerns, including poor people. His vita presents an interesting story about a greedy emperor who desires the treasure of the church, as well as miracle stories such as that of Saint Lawrence curing blindness.³⁹ All Saints, the dedication of both the church and a chapel, had become a popular devotion in the Western church after the ninth century and recognized those saints who were not celebrated with their own mass or feast day.⁴⁰ The Virgin Mary had become ubiquitous in Western churches by the fifteenth century, and every London parish most likely maintained a Lady chapel. Marian doctrines were numerous and not all officially recognized, but she represented a popular visage of the sacred. As a group, the saints of this parish make an interesting statement of the local appropriation of the faith: the presence of the carpenters, the poor, and—perhaps inspired by the church’s proximity to Bishopsgate—a suggestion of a culture open to larger influences.

Parish operations

Like all London parishes, Allhallows London Wall actively engaged in numerous projects that merged the religious with the social. In 1455, the churchwardens paid to clean the street in front of the church; bought a key and lock; purchased frankincense, flags, and garlands; painted an image of Judas on the rood loft; bought rushes for the church at Easter, Midsummer, and All Hallows Day; purchased candles (tallow, Judas, and paschal); mended windows, copes, and bells; and more.⁴¹ Other years were just as full. In 1469–70, the parish purchased a pair of garnets (hinges) for the altar of Saint Lawrence.⁴² The church contained pews and the churchwardens bought hinges for the pew doors and, although the records are damaged, they may have created a plan for the allotment of seats in 1469–70.⁴³ The parish also owned several bells, including a Mary Bell and an Ave Bell.⁴⁴ Most of these activities would have required the hire of local artisans and laborers, and the purchase of items from local merchants.

All of these activities were the responsibility of the churchwardens. Achieving them required the churchwardens to deal with significant parishioners, sometimes the resident anchorite and the parson, and occasionally with the wives of the parish and a parish fraternity. This approach encouraged the inclusion of as many individuals as possible for several reasons: first, the parish’s relative poverty meant that broader participation proved economically beneficial; second, an identifiably cohesive group of significant parishioners lived in this parish, constantly negotiating with one another and creating a social base; and, third, for much of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, an important spiritual voice resided in this parish, an anchorite, who was sometimes a woman, and who added her voice to that of the priest This final factor may have helped the parish become accustomed to recognizing a woman’s contribution to parish life, which is why this parish documents a greater degree of women’s participation in parish governance than was typical.

These factors are embedded in the inconsistent accounts from Allhallows London Wall, but not always quickly identifiable because (1) many accounts are only partial survivals; (2) some represent a year’s activities, while others run longer; and (3) the language and methodology vary. For example, the accounts for 1486–87 employed the word “received” in acknowledging receipt of money, for everything from burials to collections. This word choice obscures the fact that the money came to the churchwardens in different ways, and the lack of clarity leads to further problems of interpretation. The basic issues, however, are clear. Two regular sources of income appear in the parish accounts: (1) burials, obits, and knells; and (2) gatherings for special lights, devotions, and observances. These sources of income are ubiquitous in accounts from the pre-Reformation era. Beat Kümin observed that those churches located in the central areas of a city tended to record larger sums of income related somehow to sources for the dead, and this peripheral urban parish conforms to that general pattern in that the mortuary funds do not supply a great deal of money to Allhallows London Wall, but they do bring in some money each and every year.⁴⁵

Parish property tended to be a source of income for most London churches, but Allhallows London Wall lacked endowments regarding this potential source. The parish possessed a “church house,” which it sold in 1488–90, but they had another one by the 1520s. Elsewhere the accounts refer to a parsonage, but the parsonage and church house references appear to denote different properties, neither of which brought a significant amount of money into the parish. While the wealth recorded for the anchorite brought significant money on occasion, in most years the anchorite received no mention in the records. This intermittent pattern requires reflection on the nature of the society of this parish and its constant articulation of relationships.

Fundraising and the lists

The appearance of the parson, the anchorite, “the wives,” and the parish fraternity of Saint Sithe tends to occur when the parish required additional income, frequently because of construction projects, but it is not an absolute pattern.⁴⁶ Figure 1.2 represents the appearance of these people/groups in the records. The resulting graph illustrates the pattern of construction projects bringing all aspects of the parish together in fundraising.

Figure 1.2 Contributors to fundraising

This pattern goes beyond the simple fact that mending things was a ubiquitous part of parish life; some of these accounts document substantial projects. In 1458–59, the parish embarked on a construction project that brought many of the components of parish society together. The churchwardens were William Boteler and Thomas Kerver, and they never explained the work which they oversaw, but they purchased lime, sand, nails, hired masons, had a cross gilded, oversaw work on the bells and with the gutters, and paid a laborer for his work on a wall; whatever the project was—or, rather, projects were— the construction seems rather extensive. To pay for it all, Boteler and Kerver took in £12 9 s. 7 d., which included collections, a gift from “John Hariys to the Cherche Wall,” a gift from the Bishop of London for the anchorite (which appears to mean on behalf of the anchorite), celebrations of a church ale (after the gift of a “kyldrykyn of good ale that Watson” gave), and, perhaps, multiple celebrations of Hockday. In 1458–59, a year of one or more such projects, fundraising incorporated a large swath of parish society, which still ended with a deficit of 8 s. 2 d.⁴⁷ The following year reveals no indication of building projects, but the churchwardens collect money due the parson, 40 s., who otherwise receives no mention; in fact, it appears that the churchwardens may have kept the 40 s. since they make no notation of passing it on. Was the action connected with an ongoing concern with the parish’s building product of the previous year and its overall financial well-being?

While never as explicit as one would wish, one may absolutely “read” the accounts at Allhallows London Wall to gain a sense of how the community acknowledged benefactors and celebrated communal accomplishments and even expressed an idealized sense of community, hierarchical as it was. The account from 1456–57 contains a badly damaged and partial list of parishioners who appear to have given money to support steeple repair.⁴⁸ Because of the damage, interpretation is limited to the obvious, that it was a list of donations to repair the steeple, but the list also establishes a pattern for how the churchwardens approached raising the funds necessary to tackle a large problem.

Another partial account survives from 1460–61 in which only the income survives, but it contains a list of parishioners (the second of six) and appears to be another construction year which is suggested by language employed elsewhere in the records. The churchwardens were Thomas Kerver and William Cases, and they received money from the anchorite, from men and women of the parish for the charity pot, money toward the painting of the principal cross staff, from the wives of the parish for Hock Monday, and from Alison Dawson for an obligation. Then follows the list that begins with the anchorite, followed by the parson, followed by sixteen further entries, but the last five are illegible. Of the names that can be read, all are male except for one person who is only identified as the glazier, who were typically not women. While the second list is admittedly tentative concerning its relationship to a construction project, the presence of a glazier and the painting of the cross staff suggest some work.

Two parish refurbishment projects topped the agenda in 1482–85, and, thus, two lists of donors are contained in those accounts: the first lists contributors for work around the baptismal font and the second was to repair the organ. The list for the font is reproduced in Table 1.1.

Table 1.1 The list for the font

to ye wyt lymyng and yolow okryng and ffor ye keveryng of ye fonte and makyng kleneye chyrche
t[em] Ress[eyved]of ye ankyr	iij s.	iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of sonyff	v s
It[em] Ress[eyved]of Rychard barbar	ij s.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of john klovyar		xx d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of Boteler		iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of betley		ij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of lambard		ij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of wellys kovper		ij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of trentys wife		ij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of kylby		j d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of Thomas duram	v s.	iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of Watyr Wellys	v s.	iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved]of Symond Pratt	v s.	iiij d.

Source: MS05090/001, fo. 18v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 28.

This moment of presentation at the audit would have been a public recognition of philanthropy and, as the reference to the anchorite suggests, it represented individuals of note in the parish. Fundraising for the font refurbishment operated more exclusively than did the process for repairing the organ. Fewer donors gave more on average than those who contributed to the organ; they were a more cohesively elite group and almost entirely male—twelve men and one woman. The font-donors are not ordered by amount, but rather by status, for even if the list represents the order of the giving, then status undoubtedly played some role in that order, and so the anchorite, William Lucas (ca. 1478–86), received the first acknowledgment.⁴⁹ With their gifts, parish leaders improved the liturgical space in which the children of the parish were baptized, and they fashioned that space for the administration of the sacrament.

There may even be an expression of custodianship in this action since the font was “a monument to parochial membership.”⁵⁰ The medieval concept of baptism created new ties of spiritual relationships between godparents and their godchildren, and godparents faced very real consequences if they failed in their spiritual obligations. The ritual of baptism would have featured several people standing around the font illustrating the creation of the new social and spiritual associations and offering a moment for members of the parish to be featured in an important ritual of the faith. Given the importance of social status in fifteenth-century London, it seems likely that godparents were frequently selected from among the more significant members of the parish. Refurbishing the area around the font provided a renovated area for the baptism and, therefore, provided a new backdrop for members of the parish as they stood around the font. The list, like the space and the ritual, celebrated an intersection of status, local patronage, and the administration of the sacrament.

The parish also repaired the organ, which created a much longer list (the fourth list) (Table 1.2). The list of donors for the organ repair contains twenty-four lines, which, once again, are not ordered by amount given. Seven women appear in this second list, one line acknowledges a husband and wife, and the remainder are men, including both the parson and anchorite. This ratio represents an impressive degree of women’s participation (almost 1/3 of the total). These two lists of donations imply a deliberative process simply by their existence, but when analyzed comparatively, the parochial process becomes more explicit.

Table 1.2 Repairing the organ⁵²

Thys ys ye Resseytys of ye orgonys
It[em] Ress[eyved] of ye ankyr	?	viij d
It[em] Ress[eyved] of ye parson	iij s.	iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of Symond pratt and hys wyfe	v s.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of John Klovyar		xx d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of Wattyr Wellys	v s.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of John Skyrvythe	iij s.	iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of wyllya[m] Betley		xij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of sonyffys wyfe		xx d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of lavranse wylson		vj d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of Svyste		iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of wyllya[m] lambard		iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of wyllya[m] chambyr		iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of Thomas wylkoc		iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of wyllya[m] Podsey		iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of John wolsey		ij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of Kolmanys wyffe		iij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of Betleyys wyfe		j d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of kylbyys wyfe		j d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of abramys wyfe		j d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of kylby		iiij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of akarpynfore yn karpyndorys hall		ij d. 51
It[em] Ress[eyved] of wylsonys wyfe		j d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of ye woman at oxford ys plase		j d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of wyllya[m] Sparman		ij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of John chapman		ij d.
It[em] Ress[eyved] of Rychard Barbour	v s.

The lists of names from these two collections provide evidence of the influence of social status and gender at work in parish culture. Seven individuals appear in both lists and they contributed, in the aggregate, significant sums: the anchorite (3 s. 4 d.; ? s. 4 d.), Richard Barbour (2 s.; 5 s.), John Clovier (20 d.; 20 d.), William Betley (2 d.; 12 d.), William Lambard (2 d.; 4 d.), William Wellys (6 s. 4 d.; 5 s.). and Simon Pratt (6 s. 4 d.; 5 s.). Except for William Lambard, who gave the least of the men who appear on both lists, the other six men appear in the records in several places. So the list of donors for the font contained a high concentration of men who held some social and economic significance in the parish, while the donors’ list for the organ repair was more socially diffused with many names that appear nowhere else in the accounts and many of whom gave one or two pence apiece. All women are identified as someone’s wife, but some women may have acted of their own accord since their names are separated from those of their husbands. The list of gifts for the organ repair included: “kylbyys wife” (1 d.) and “kylby” (4 d.), William Betley (12 d.), as well as “Betleyys wife” (1 d.). Finally, while Simon Pratt donated to the font repairs, he and his wife together donated to the organ repair. Men and women, making donations to parish projects, aided the parish in this period of economic need, but the benefactors for the font area represented a more exclusive social group, suggesting the more exalted or exclusive endeavor. The organ shaped the liturgy and was supported by smaller donations by a wider range of people, but the font mattered more to those with greater social significance.

The elastic representation of social participation continues in subsequent accounts. In 1486–88, a subsection in the expenses appears for repairs to the church house and the churchyard. At the same time, the anchorite, William Lucas, died, and, while he left goods worth £2 13 s. 4 d. to the parish, the parish still entered a plea against the executors of his will in some sort of disagreement. The parson attended the final reckoning of accounts for these years, but the majority of the income, slightly more than £8 per annum, originated in collections for the beam list and from knells and other funerary services. Many of the parish groups appear in the records, but they are not always directly engaged in fundraising for the construction project; even so, their very presence matters. For example, the anchorite’s bequest enriched the parish especially during the construction years. The actions of the others did as well.

In an undated account from the reign of Henry VIII, probably from the period 1509–19, the parish paid for work on the church house, the churchyard wall, and another unnamed project. Included in the fundraising is Simon the Anchor who gave a “stand” of ale worth 4 s. 6 d. Goodwife Jones provided another 3 s. 4 d. Goodwife Webb donated 12 d. collected of the Virgin’s “money.” This was also a year in which the wives were recognized for their donation of Hock money, and numerous other parish-wide collections occurred throughout the liturgical year.⁵³

In 1528–29, the parish launched another major building project in the construction of a new aisle.⁵⁴ As part of this expansion of the church, the parish required scaffolding, which required the expenditure of several pounds and negotiations with “my lord of Christchurch” and others.⁵⁵ They also sent a representative to Colchester to negotiate for high quality lumber, and arrange to have it harvested and transported to the city.⁵⁶ Many more entries occur for this project that further demonstrate the need to use local connections and talent; however, the rather anonymous nature of many actions remains apparent too.

The building of the new aisle in 1528–29 came with references to many actors; some of them are named, but many are simply listed as laborers, glaziers, wives, and with other such social markers. There is a list of eight men who were loaned ca. £30, presumably either to provide services or procure items required for the construction (the fifth list). The approach required a degree of trust between these men. Funding came in part from borrowing, from regular church fees, from donations, and from the payment of a debt upon the death of a parishioner.⁵⁷ Once again, this evidence documents an elastic social model of significance and participation that expanded to meet the requirements of major construction projects. At the end of the account is another list—a sixth list—that acknowledges donors for the construction project (Table 1.3).

Table 1.3 Building the new aisle list⁵⁸

The namys of thame that has gewyne money towards the beldynge of the new yll in the churche in the xx yere of kynge henry the viijth
It[e]m fyrst mastere p[ar]son	xx s.
It[e]m Mastere Ankere	xxxij s.
Wyll[y]am Wolson	xx s.
John Weebe	xx s.
Wyll[y]am stoks.	xx s.
John blakloke	x s.
thomas large	x s.
Rob[er]t Ettryche	vj s. viij d. v s.
Rob[er]t Cokred	v s.
It[e]m the wyffs	xl s. lij s.
It[e]m George Maxwell	vj s. viij d.
It[e]m gatherd In psyche be Syd of Wyll[y]am stoks & thomas large…

Appearance on this list is ordered by an intersection of status and monetary gift, but the status of the benefactor is the most important. The parson gave less than the anchorite, but comes first, and “the wyffs” gave more than anyone, but come toward the end. Lastly, the anonymous donors barely receive attention. Donations and gifts mattered, in part, because of who gave them. The records of Allhallows London Wall demonstrated this fact in several ways; one was to record income and expenditures, another was to document the gifts and actions of parishioners—some of whom mattered more than others.

Scattered in this section are other noteworthy entries, such as 40 s. received from “the goode wyffs of the p[ar]ysche of ther wyktrynge [?] money toward the beldynge of the churche.” Also, “Rs of master Ankere of the gyft of dyv[er]sse men & women of ther dewoc[i]on at dyu[er]sse tymys … ix s. iij d.” Money was also received from William Wolson, Master Deppame,⁵⁹ Master Callat, Master Haydon. It was especially the anchorite and the wives who appear whenever there was a special building project and, therefore, a special financial need, but the parson does so as well.

The recognition at the audit of gifts ordered according to the social significance of the donor was a part of the fundraising strategy and would have shamed those who had the means but lacked the largesse. An analysis of parish society and culture requires an awareness of horizontal and vertical ties of social connection because parishioners constantly re-negotiated social relationships. Parish rituals, codes of behavior, and collective actions continually represented these relationships in plain sight of other parishioners. While the churchwardens might discuss the parish in terms of unity and coherence, they also provided evidence of a socially, politically, and economically dominant group, and defined others as belonging to varying degrees of parish significance. London was such a complex place that even an inhabitant of a poor peripheral parish could still move in and out of a myriad of associations that informed a sense of identity.⁶⁰ When someone mattered in Tudor London, it was usually because of numerous factors rather than just one, but these issues are not always easy to discern in parish records.⁶¹ The early run of churchwardens’ accounts from Allhallows London Wall, especially the six lists that survive, allow for insight into many aspects of such behavior.

The parish masters

Several significant men of the late fifteenth-century parish created a core of parishioners overseeing parish offices and operations. Richard Barbour, for example, appears on two of the six fundraising lists. He donated money toward the making of the Easter sepulcher in 1459–60, when the parish also paid him 2 s. for general upkeep around the church. He served as the junior churchwarden in 1474–75, along with William Boteler, and again in 1475 with John Clovier, when he and Boteler were entrusted by the parish with 35 s. 4 d. Barbour served as the senior churchwarden in 1480–82, 1486–88, and again in 1492. In 1475–76, he gave a half barrel of ale, worth 7 s., to the parish. At the audit in 1482, he and the junior churchwarden, John Clovier, handed over twelve torches to the parish; at the 1488 audit, he delivered to his successor 19 s. 5 d. In 1500–1, one Elizabeth Barbour, probably his wife, paid 20 d. in partial payment for the burial of her husband.⁶²

John Clovier (numerous spelling variations appear for his last name), was a leatherseller, and acknowledged in 1474–75 for making the bowls, which held oil and tapers, for the beam light. He served as a churchwarden in 1475, in 1480–82, in 1488–90, and again in 1498. Not only did he provide money toward the refurbishment of the font in 1482–85, but also to the organ. In 1477–78, the parish also “resseyvid of Agelderkyn Ale that Clovier gaff … v s. vj d.” During refurbishments in 1488–90, he gave lime for “y^e vyce” (probably a device or image—perhaps a wall painting). In addition to these examples of service and philanthropy to the parish, Clovier also paid 12 d. to bury his cousin Walter in 1482–85. Two years later, 1486–88, he buried his son as well as a priest, Sir Andrew, but in his will, Clovier made a provision for a John Clovier, a small child he found abandoned and who was named for him. The parish records money received to ring the great bell for John Clovier in 1498, which is the year his will was probated.⁶³

Walter Wells, another significant and long-term resident, paid 4 d. for a taper in 1480. In 1480–82, churchwardens Richard Barbour and John Clovier acknowledged receipt of 5 s. from Wells for church repair. He served as the junior churchwarden in 1480–82, 1486–88, and again in 1492, which means that he should have served as the senior churchwarden in the following years, but those records do not survive. In 1482–85, he donated money toward repair of the organ and the refurbishment of the font and, in 1486–88, Wells paid 4 s. 4 d. for the burial of a servant, including the ringing of the great bell and four torches, and he also sold a load of loam to the parish for the church house. During 1488–90, Wells donated 12 d. “for the best crosse,” and at the end of the accounts for those years, there is a small section that begins “Theys been the gyfts of watyr w[ellys and] odyr mo off the py[sh],” according to which Wells gave a torch. In 1495–96 the parish paid Wells 6 s. 8 d. for a chalice. Walter Wells was a significant parishioner who gave time, effort, and money to his parish—and was acknowledged for his efforts and gifts in the churchwardens’ accounts.⁶⁴

Richard Trent, who had donated 4 d. toward the building of the Easter sepulcher in 1469–70, was also a churchwarden in 1477–78. By 1482–85 the parish either possessed Trent’s property, or the Trents rented property from the parish, because the churchwardens spend 9 d. for repairs on a chamber in Trent’s house. When “trentys wife” makes her only named appearance on the list to refurbish the area around the font, she may have been a widow. Given the parish donation, office holding, and property dealing, the Trents were another significant couple in the parish during the late fifteenth century.⁶⁵

William Boteler and his wife were another important couple in the parish, and an entry acknowledging Hock money (1458–59) states that Boteler’s wife delivered 23 d. to her husband while he was churchwarden. The Botelers lived in Allhallows London Wall for more than two decades.⁶⁶ William Boteler served as the senior churchwarden in 1455–56, 1458–59, and again in 1474–75. He also appears in the line from 1469–70: “It[e]m paid to Will[ia]m Boteler for sent sithe xvj d.” which implies that Boteler was an officer—or at least a trusted member—of the Brotherhood of Saint Sithe. In 1460–61, William Boteler was one of more than ten men who appeared on the second extant list of parish donors. In 1469–70, he donated 3 s. 4 d. toward the building of the sepulcher. The records of 1482–85 record a payment for his funeral knell; his wife’s knell had been rung in 1474–75. The appearance of “Boteler’s wyf” as the conveyer of Hocking money brings the presence of a significant wife into a leading position of this “popular pastime,” and she was not the only example of a churchwardens’ spouse delivering Hock tide money.⁶⁷

In 1467–68, Simon Pratt paid 30 s. for three-quarters’ annual rent. In 1469–70 Pratt was one of several parishioners who donated money to the making of the sepulcher, 2 s. in his case. In 1477–78, Simon Pratt served as churchwarden, and the accounts listed “It[em] ress[eyvid] of prattys wyffe for hocke mony … v s. v d.” Pratt served as churchwarden again in 1482–85. In those years, the parish refurbished the church font and the organ; Pratt donated 6 s. 4 d. to the former and “Symon Pratt and his wife” donated 5 s. to the latter. It is also noted during that period that Simon Pratt had loaned the parish 6 s. 8 d. during a previous year; that could explain an entry in the 1480 accounts that reads “I[te]m payyd to prat i[n] mony that was be hend … xix d.”⁶⁸ In 1509–10 Pratt gave two torches to the parish.⁶⁹ A Richard Pratt appeared in the accounts from 1458–59, and if he was Simon’s father, then the family had been in the parish for a while.

The reconstruction of significant men of the fifteenth-century parish corresponds with what people know about parish governance and reflects the fact that the churchwardens’ accounts could be very masculine documents—written mostly by and for the men of the parish, audited mostly by men, and recording the deeds of mostly men. The churchwarden’s tenure in parish offices, the actions he undertook both within the office and beyond also tend to be recorded, but this parish in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century reveals something different: the need for churchwardens to reach out to others for help. Thus, the records demonstrate a core group of significant men running the parish, as other people, or groups, appear to do things for a brief period before they disappear from the texts once again—a pattern that correlated with the economic demands generated by construction projects.

The anchorhold

In Figure 1.2, the first category marks the appearance of the anchorite in the churchwardens’ accounts. The presence of an anchorite—or anchorites, because for brief period there were two—brought real distinction to Allhallows London Wall, but s/he was not a member of the laity and therefore beyond the typical concerns of the churchwarden. An anchorite was an individual who lived as a recluse by entering a cell built near or within a church to pray and offer intercessory prayer and advice to supplicants. At times, medieval London possessed as many as four of them, with their cells being located along the city wall.⁷⁰ According to episcopal directives, the anchorhold would have possessed a window, or squint, which opened into the church allowing the recluse to observe the mass and to receive the eucharist.⁷¹ Margaret Burre, the anchoress as the fifteenth century began, may have been succeeded by Emmora Olrun.⁷² In 1477, the anchorite was William Lucas. Simon Appulby was the last of these anchorites and the parish’s anchorhold became the property of the city’s swordbearer in the 1530s.⁷³ The anchorite appears in the pre-1500 churchwarden’s accounts with some consistency, with the churchwardens sometimes acknowledging money from the anchor and other times acknowledging the receipt of donations from outside the parish.⁷⁴ The anchorite donated money to a variety of construction or repair projects, the maintenance of the beam light, and for the making of new bowls of latten brass. The parish inventory of 1525 listed: “It[e]m a grett paxe wyth iij Images of sylver by the gyfftt off the Anker.”⁷⁵ During the reign of Henry VIII, “Master Anchor” received donations from numerous men and women totaling 9 s. 3 d., but these amounts were registered in the churchwardens’ account for some reason.⁷⁶ The role of the anchorite in assisting church maintenance and refurbishment is never explained, but certainly made manifest.

Conversely, the anchorite does not appear in the accounts each year, but s/he undoubtedly remained religiously, economically, socially, and politically important in the religious culture of pre-Reformation London. The audit of 1511 acknowledged that the anchorite held 25 s. of the church’s ready money.⁷⁷ When William Lucas gained permission to leave his cell to make a pilgrimage to Rome, he donated 20 s. to the parish, perhaps in compensation for his economic absence; if so, as Mary C. Erler has written, that amount represents an indication of the great importance of the anchorite in the parish because in 1478 that amount represented one-fourth of the churchwardens’ income.⁷⁸ (Given the timing of Lucas’ trip, one wonders whether it was connected to the grant of the papal pardon a few years later.) The presence of the anchorite in so many of the parish’s economic endeavors afforded the parishioners an opportunity to become more closely associated with the anchor’s work and authority, while allowing the anchorite to establish a model for others to emulate and thus to bring an element of fame to Allhallows London Wall.

Margaret Burre bequeathed two alabaster images to the parish, one of the crucifix and one of Saint Anne for the high altar; in addition she left a third carving, an image of the Virgin, to a friend.⁷⁹ The 1552 parish inventory created at the requirement of Edward VI’s government listed “certen Alloblaster” sold to a freemason for 2 s. 7d., but there is no proof that the 1552 alabaster was the one given by Margaret Burre.⁸⁰ Burre’s will named the parish priest and churchwardens of Allhallows London Wall as the executor of her will, emphasizing “her ties to the parish,” and she was probably a widow when she made her profession since her will mentions that she had a daughter.⁸¹

The final anchorite, Simon Appulby, aka Simon the Anker, took his vows and entered the anchorhold in June 1513.⁸² He published a devotional text entitled The Fruyte of Redemption in 1514, which traditionally has been understood to have been based on a previously published Latin text entitled Meditationes de vita et beneficiis Jesu Christi, sive, Gratiarum actiones (Cologne: 1488), but the history of the text was more complex and more interesting than this explanation. Nicholas Weydenbosch (or de Salicetus) published Antidotarius Animae (Strasbourg: 1489), which took the ca. sixty chapters of the Meditationes de vita et beneficiis Jesu Christi and edited them into a ca. forty-chapter devotional text.⁸³ Weydenbosch was born in Bern, had studied medicine in Paris prior to becoming a Cistercian and, eventually, the Abbot of Baumgarten.⁸⁴ It appears that Simon Appulby took Weydenbosch’s version as his source, added some original material, and also added material from the Revelations of Saint Bridget. Mary C. Erler suggests that Appulby’s version emphasizes Marian mediations more than the original text and offers a strong indication that Simon the Anchor had contact with the Bridgettine convent at Syon.

The Fruyte of Redemption was reprinted in 1517, 1530, 1531, and 1532.⁸⁵ It begins, “Lorde my God I desire to laude the / for I knowe myself to be made to laude ye,” and concludes with the request, “praye for the Anker of London wall wretched Symon, that … hath compyled this mater in englysshe for your ghostly conforte that understande no latyn.”⁸⁶ In between, Simon’s book promoted a visual and affective approach to meditation on the Passion that generally fits with popular religious trends in the last years before the Reformation and it expressed little that could be seen as sympathetic to the spirit of Lollard teachings.⁸⁷ The anchorite helped to make the small parish of Allhallows on the Wall distinctive, important, and orthodox, and it provided a constant voice in parish projects and debates. The anchorite also served as a conduit to worlds beyond the parish—the ecclesiastical hierarchy, late fifteenth-century devotional literature, and the theological interests of some significant monastic institutions. Simon the Anchor’s book demonstrates, as much as did William Lucas pilgrimage to Rome and Pope Innocent VIII’s grant of a papal indulgence, that parish leaders were in contact with recent theological and liturgical discussions of church. Lastly, the anchorite proved to be an asset when the churchwardens required extra revenue and facilitated the fundamental elastic social model exhibited in these churchwardens’ accounts.

Since the anchorite was not supposed to leave the anchorhold, the anchor’s servant, who is also mentioned in the churchwardens’ accounts, must have been busy running errands across the city. Simon Appulby may also have had family in the parish since other people named Appulby also appear in the records. In an undated account from the reign of Henry VIII, the parish paid for the knell and pit of a Goodwife Appulby.⁸⁸ Ralph Appulby also rented the church house between 1528 and 1534.⁸⁹ The 1528–29 churchwardens’ accounts noted that Ralph had loaned 13 s. 4 d. to the parish and that the loan was unpaid. Several others had also made loans, including the anchor, Simon Appulby. The loan was connected to the purchase of timber from Colchester required for the building of the new church aisle, and the accounts reveal payments back to Ralph, Simon, and others.⁹⁰ In 1532–34, the parish purchased “vj yerds of buckeram for the best Coope… ij s.:, for a nownce of Rebbende for the same coope…viij d.,” “a scayne of black sylke for the same coope… j d. ob,” and then “payde Rafe Appulby for making of the same coope…xviij d . xvj d.”⁹¹ Ralph Appulby may have been a churchwarden. In one of the accounts that is damaged and un-datable, but from the reign of Henry VIII, the senior churchwarden’s first name is clearly Ralph. The shared surname with Simon the Anchor and their connection in the 1528–29 accounts might indicate a relationship. Ralph Appulby’s life in Allhallows London Wall suggests a lengthy period of constant engagement with the parish: for the house, the loan, the cope, and perhaps even a term as churchwarden. If he had a family relationship with the parish’s famous anchor, it would have added to his social privilege in a small corner of London where he already mattered.

And, of course, the anchorite appears as the first name on four of the extant lists, and second on an additional one, meaning that he appears on five out of six of the lists that survive from this parish and that dealt with fundraising for building/remodeling projects. The anchorite could assist with practical concerns, such a church refurbishment project, but s/he was also a conduit for money and ideas from beyond the bounds.⁹² The anchorite also brought a degree of spiritual authority to the parish, from Margaret Burre and her alabaster gifts, to William Lucas and his pilgrimage to Rome, to Simon Appulby and his book, they held a special place in both parish and London society. The parish may have been poor, but there was a holy person there too, and s/he helped, financially and socially, when there was a significant need.

The parson

The parson, or rector, also appears here and there in the accounts, but to a lesser extent than does the anchorite. Figure 1.2 suggests that, like the anchor, he is more likely to appear when the parish is dealing with an expensive construction or refurbishment project. Of the six extant lists created during such periods, the parson appears on five of them—he is listed as the first name on two, and the second name on three (after the anchor). What the general pattern suggests is that even if the language of the accounts fails to make explicit that the parson is showing either a degree of largesse to the parish or an oversight responsibility during a time of unusual activity, his concern is implied.

The wives

The wives, collectively and, to a degree, some individual women are another part of parish society more likely to appear in the records when there is a construction project. As has been shown, “the wyffs” could give more than anyone else, but they were typically identified toward the end of the list of donors, suggesting that gifts mattered, in part, because of who gave them and representing another aspect of the elastic modeling of parish society in these accounts. The visibility of women was situational and part of what appears to have made them more visible was the very nature of a construction project when (1) the parish required money; (2) the men who ran the parish were presented with an understandable paradigm of fundraising; and (3) the appearance of the wives would be temporary. Once the project was over, the women returned to their usual less-visible status.

The fact that “the wives” could appear in the accounts when the churchwardens required implies that the wives were ready, willing, and able to assist the churchwardens; it implies that the wives undoubtedly possessed some structure or organization for generating that assistance. The previously mentioned example of Goodwife Webb donating 12 d. of the money collected for the Virgin’s money further suggests evidence of a women’s guild.⁹³ In other words, a women’s guild existed that continually collected money to support various devotions and projects and was called upon to donate money when the churchwardens required. Religious guilds, or fraternities, existed across the city and probably existed in each parish, sometimes multiple fraternities per parish. In general, they raised money, sought to achieve certain tasks, and prayed for those departed. The evidence strongly implies that Allhallows London Wall was home to a women’s guild that either failed to document their activities or those records no longer exist, but the churchwardens, without explicitly acknowledging them, left many clues.

Thinking about the churchwardens’ accounts as documents written by significant men mostly for a similar audience helps explain why some of the entries concerning women can be so odd. One of the unique entries may be found in 1480–82, where the receipts begin with an unusually worded statement remarking that the churchwardens held a specific amount of money when they were “chosen chirch Wardeyns by the Gaderyng of them and their Wyfs and of the Wyfe of Symond Pratte.”⁹⁴ There is no other statement quite like it to be found in the accounts. The phrase “their Wyfs and of the Wyfe of Symond Pratte” is quite likely an acknowledgment of the parish’s women’s guild, and Pratt’s wife was probably the guild mistress. It has been suggested that women might appear in parish records because they served an occasional need to spotlight the married state of an individual since being married in late medieval culture conveyed status.⁹⁵ Such an explanation fails to make a specific point in this instance since the substantial men and women of the parish were mostly married or widowers, but perhaps “the wives” generally granted legitimacy to the proceedings. In 1480–82, the new churchwardens were Richard Barbour and John Clovier; both had wives, although Clovier’s wife died while he served in the warden’s office. Simon Pratt had last served in the office in 1477–78. In 1478, Pratt’s wife delivered Hock money to her husband, the churchwarden, because she was the guild mistress, the women’s guild had organized the ritual, and her husband happened to be the churchwarden.⁹⁶ The same had most certainly been the case twenty years earlier with William Boteler and Boteler’s wife.

Hock Day celebrations and the wives

Hock Day celebrations have frequently been described as a tradition in pre-modern England, but it is so difficult to find in the parish records at large. Yet several entries in these churchwardens’ accounts mention it (Table 1.4).

Table 1.4 Hock Day celebrations⁹⁸

[1458–9]	Also Rescevyid upon hoc mu[n]day of divers men and Wymen	iij s. iiij d.
	Also Rescvid of Botelers Wyf of hockynge mony	xxiij d.
[1460–1]	It[e]m Receyvyd of ye wyvys of ye parysshe on hokke monday	xxiij d.
[1477–78]	It[em] ress[eyvid] of prattys wyffe for hocke mony	v s. v d.
	It[em] ress[eyvid] of Thomas wylkockys wyffe	v s. 97
[1509–11]	It[e]m Ress[yvyd] on hocmonday of the wyffis of the piche the ffruste yere	iij s. vij d.
	It[e]m Ress[yvyd] on hoc monday of the wyffis the seconde yere	iiij s. vij d.
	It[e]m Ress[yvyd] on hoc tewysday the ffruste yere	xvj d. ob.
	It[e]m Ress[yvyd] on hoc tewysday the seconde yere	xiij d. ob.
[year?]	It[e]m on hok Monday of the wyffs	iij s. iiij d.
[year?]	It[e]m of the wyffys of hok monday	ij s. viiij d.

The records fail to provide any reasons for the apparently erratic observances, but it is possible that the parish received money from Hock collections without identifying it as such, as with the money from Wilcock’s wife in 1477–78. Two possibilities to consider are: (1) did Hock money collections not occur in the years when the accounts make no mention of them; or, (2) were such observances annual and only occasionally became the concern of the churchwardens, meaning the women’s guild kept the money for its own pursuits? The controversial nature of the event might explain some of the inconsistency. There had been several attempts to ban the practice in London in the first half of the fifteenth century, including for the period surrounding the 1446 royal entry of Queen Margaret.⁹⁹ Or, perhaps it was viewed as insignificant. Clive Burgess argues that when the parish leaders of Saint Andrew Hubbard produced a final edited version of their churchwardens’ account, any mention of Hock money had been excised, but mention remains in accounts that appear to have not received a final examination.¹⁰⁰ While that pattern raises many interesting questions, it is not an answer for the records from Allhallows London Wall since Hock money entries can appear in well-written accounts.

The most likely answer for Allhallows London Wall is that Hock Day celebrations only occasionally concerned the churchwardens. And yet the receipt of Hock money does not exactly correspond to construction projects in the parish. Four occurrences (1458–59, 1460–1, 1477–78, and the second undated year) were years with building projects, but two instances (1509–11, and the first undated year) were not. The parish might have been influenced by the special royal events of 1509–11, which saw the accession of Henry VIII in April, followed quickly by his marriage to Catherine of Aragon; thus, it was the start of a new era with a royal marriage, but the undated year remains unexplained.

At first glance, Hock Day seems an obvious ritual of status inversion with the end of the ritual reaffirming the status quo and the misrule banished for another year.¹⁰¹ Katherine French has argued that recognition of marriage was a central aspect of Hock Day celebrations; the rituals were organized by the goodwives of a parish, especially the wives of churchwardens, in recognition of those who had recently acquired the new social status that came with marriage. The evidence from Allhallows London Wall certainly provides no evidence to contradict this general assessment. The role of wives and marriage is largely supported. The appearance of the wives of Boteler and Pratt in the records collecting Hock money when their husbands served as churchwardens is interesting, but those events are separated by almost twenty years.¹⁰² Plus, there is that problematic entry close to the acknowledgment of Boteler’s wife donating Hock money that seems to imply another collection had occurred too, as does the acknowledgment of money from Wilcock’s wife in the year that Pratt’s wife appeared in records. Thomas Wilcock was not a churchwarden in 1477–78 (he had been in 1469–70 and would be again in 1480). Furthermore at Saint Nicholas Shambles, in 1464–65, Hock money, May money, and money from a church ale originated with one William Hewlot.¹⁰³ Most London records emphasize wives’ participation, such as at Allhallows Staining, where the account record “Resseyvyd of hokkmonday in gaderyng of þe wyffes in þe hystrete … xxj d.” without greater distinction.¹⁰⁴ It would seem, however, that absolute patterns did not exist in early modern London. When the observance was held during 1554 at Saint Botolph Aldgate, the context most certainly became a statement about the restoration of old customs, and not what it would have meant in the years prior to 1530.¹⁰⁵ The point is that ritual meaning may be fluid and open to local variation.

The social meaning of the Hock Day celebrations was local; they were devised by and for the parish, based on precedent. A traditional sociological interpretation would anticipate that the symbolic and metaphoric language of the celebration addressed the meaning of social relationships and ultimately re-affirmed those relationships, while also moving the participants toward a new understanding of some issue. The generally applicable point is that the symbolic, playful behavior of Hock Day ceremonies was an opportunity to examine certain social “facts” and perhaps adjust them mildly. The themes, as far as the evidence allows, had to do with the possession and transference of money; gender, status, and power—and being bound versus having others loosen those bonds at a cost. The focus on money, freedom, and obligation probably resonated with merchant family angst about their wealth and means of earning it.¹⁰⁶ A newly acquired status of marriage might have been the heart of the ritual, but something else might also have been “playfully” explored with these rituals.

The collections must have been focused on a small-knit group of significant people in the parish. It seems unlikely that ritual actors would have moved to capture and bind people of significantly higher or lower status. Hock Day observance was not a ritual to cross certain social boundaries, especially in a poor parish. These collections were held for those who mattered locally. By defining publicly who belonged to that group and who did not, Hock collections may even have been a way to gauge the degree to which a potential newcomer would be willing to work with the other important parishioners. When “the wives” of the parish organized the ritual, it allowed for an informal and mild social incursion to test the possible results from a new addition or new additions to the local group—the parish elite—and how that change might transform established relationships. It is also possible that multiple groups celebrated the event in the parish.

In the final analysis, women—wives and widows—may appear in the accounts as single agents who wish to make a philanthropic donation or procure a burial, or they might appear collectively, especially when the churchwardens required their financial assistance. On those occasions, the records provide a glimpse into the other side of parish operations, the things women were doing, most certainly with a high degree of organization that clearly benefited the parish in numerous ways. When a building project came along, the wives were able to demonstrate a generosity that sometimes surpassed others. They then gained a line or two the churchwardens’ accounts, listed below individually acknowledged men, each of whom gave much less. And then “the wyves” become hard to find again. The pattern is best understood as a parish official—the churchwarden—momentarily dealing with another organization before returning to business as usual.

Documented parish fraternities

The parish fraternity of Saint Sithe, which Charles Welch, editor of the churchwardens’ accounts, associated with Saint Osyth, “a British virgin who lived in the seventh or ninth century,”¹⁰⁷ most certainly referred to Saint Sitha (Zita), whose cult was growing in England and London at the end of the fifteenth century.¹⁰⁸ Saint Sitha helped housekeepers and servants find missing items and deal with oppressive work places and she promoted the rosary as a vehicle for prayers.¹⁰⁹ The records do not provide enough information to elucidate this thoroughly, but they do tell us several important facts: (1) the parish gave and received money “for sent sithe” (1469–70); (2) rented a chamber to the fraternity (1488–90); (3) the parish rented the fraternity’s burial cloth for the “moder Adams hosbonde” (1509–11); and, again, (4) received money from the fraternity (1529–30) (Table 1.5). The fraternity maintained its own set of financial records, but they have not survived.

Table 1.5 Money from the Saint Sithe fraternity¹¹⁰

[1529–30]	It[e]m fyrst Ressavyd at ou[r] Entrans at the Acompts of the Wardens of sante Sythys brethehed A for the prysche	xxxj s. x d.
	Rest in the hands of John harnssay & john hays nowchosyn wardens of Sant sythys bretherhed at thysA Compts A for the pryche the Som	v s. viiij d.

The Brotherhood undoubtedly performed many functions and operated independently of the churchwardens, but parish and fraternity did work together on occasion, making its two clearest donations to the parish during years marked by significant construction projects. This particular fraternity may have been an early group promoting prayers with the rosary, if the saint in question was Sitha. The Brotherhood of Saint Sithe (or Sitha, or Zita) was not the only parish fraternity. There was also a fraternity dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary and All Saints founded in “1343 [by] John Enefeld and certain other citizens of London, including an attorney, a chandler, and a wittawyer …,” and was later re-founded by Brewers who lived in the parish.¹¹¹ The original fraternity’s financial efforts were directed toward church restoration and maintenance, especially rebuilding the steeple, while the reconstituted fraternity would have possessed their own wardens and their own sources of income and expenditure. Both the fraternity of Saint Mary and the Brotherhood of the Sythe probably held services in one of the church’s chapels, but only some of the activities of the Brotherhood of “Saint Sythys,” including funerary trappings and most probably an image in the church, entered into the records of the churchwardens. The accounts mention one other fraternity; in 1531, the parish satisfied an old debt to the brotherhood of “Saint Trosomas.”¹¹² Given that there was no Saint Trosomas, it seems likely that, orthography aside, this might have referred to a Brotherhood dedicated to Saint Erasmus (there was also a fraternity dedicated to Saint Erasmus at Saint Michael le Querne).¹¹³

Pardon money

Lastly, the category of pardon money, generated by the grant by Innocent VIII of the papal indulgence, produced a very few random entries, but it was an unusual source of income. In 1486–87, the churchwardens acknowledged receipt of 3 s. 10 d. from “a servant to the yerle of Notyngeh^am for his bequest to haue p[ar]don.”¹¹⁴ It would be another five years before another amount was registered for pardon money, 8 s. 7 d. ob. in 1492; followed by 6 d. in 1498 and 4 d. in 1499, also for pardon money.¹¹⁵ One additional entry provides a bit more information, “It[e]m on all hallow day in pardon mony” when they acknowledge 8 d. ob in 1498.¹¹⁶ The pattern of donation shows that only one time, in 1486, did the pardon money arrive during a construction project and play into the parish’s traditional socially and economically elastic approach to fundraising. In the other years, pardon money mildly helped with parish finance. The most plausible significance of the papal indulgence undoubtedly related to how it fit into the parish spiritual culture: some connection to the feast of All Hallows that promoted the church’s dedication, a possible connection to the anchor, proof of the participation of the parish in the religious culture of the western church. Otherwise, it was almost inconsequential in the parish records. What is most intriguing about the papal indulgence is how it combines with the cult of Saint David and William Lucas’ pilgrimage to Rome to connect this poor and marginal parish to the center of the late medieval church. It also suggests that parishioners were more open to participate in locally devised, or locally expressed parish rituals and fundraising events than those bestowed from above, and the parish had not yet had time to make this pardon their own.

Conclusion

Therefore, an analysis of the fundraising at Allhallows London Wall shows a rich and active society occupied by numerous agents (Figure 1.3). The community pursued a collaborative approach to finance and governance that included parish officials orchestrating meetings with significant parishioners: the anchor, the parson, “the wives,” a handful of widows, a core of men who had some degree of wealth and had lived in the parish for a while, the Brotherhood of Saint Sythe, and, of course, the “many more.” The intermittent appearance of these participants also implies the parish’s approach to problem solving; depending on the issue, appropriate people would be approached for assistance. The parish core, the elite, are the most prevalent actors in these pre-Reformation churchwarden’s accounts, but they were the men who wrote the records. Beyond their activity, the records present a social model that demonstrates a dynamic and active parish filled with groups pursuing different activities. This allows the wives to become visible, and, thus, women are more visible in these records than is the case with most London churchwardens’ accounts. In the early Tudor era, far from being a quaint and poor parish that held church ales and Hock Day collections to pay the bills, this was a dynamic parish that also dealt with the Holy See, was home to an anchorite who expressed Bridgettine Marian devotions, received money from an earl and a bishop, and constantly collaborated with various parishioners and groups of parishioners to achieve desired ends.¹¹⁷ It was an active, complex, and multifaceted world that existed along London Wall, in Broadstreet Ward, “Eastward from the Little Postern leading into Moor-Fields” just prior to an era of tremendous transformation.¹¹⁸

Figure 1.3 Drawing in the CWA Allhallows London Wall, 1455–1536

Source: The CWA Allhallows London Wall, MS05090/001, fo. 2r, published with permission of the London Metropolitan Archives, City of London

When that change began, about 1535, the churchwardens’ accounts at Allhallows London Wall were reduced for a few years to terse memoranda providing totals and the names of a handful of men who approved the audit. With the anchorite gone, the fraternities disappearing, the cult of saints under attack, and popular pastimes such as church ales and Hock Day more suspect than ever before, their world of complex social negotiations had collapsed. Years would pass before a new system of parish finance, record keeping, and leadership emerged. In the final analysis, Allhallows London Wall, for the period 1454 to about 1530, reveals an active parish that created a set of churchwardens’ accounts reflecting a parish-wide, socially integrated approach to fundraising. But then things began to change very quickly.

Notes

1 Clive Burgess, “Pre-Reformation Churchwardens’ Accounts and Parish Government: Lessons from London and Bristol,” EHR 117 (2002): 312–13; Eamon Duffy, The Voices of Morebath: Reformation & Rebellion in an English Village (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001): 20.

2 J. Cox, Churchwardens’ Accounts from the Fourteenth Century to the Close of the Seventeenth Century (London: Methuen, 1913): 1–3.

3 For a study of church construction in this period, see Gabriel Byng, Church Building and Society in the Later Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017).

4 Katherine L. French, The Good Women of the Parish: Gender and Religion after the Black Death (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008): Chapter 4.

5 Hock Monday and Hock Tuesday are typically described as being celebrated with a certain folk custom/fundraising practice in which, on the first day, women “captured” and held men until they offered to pay for their freedom and, on the second day, men captured women in a similar fashion.

6 For example, see Clive Burgess, “Shaping the Parish: St. Mary at Hill, London, in the Fifteenth Century,” in John Blair and Barbara Golding (eds.), The Cloister and the World: Essays in Honour of Barbara Harvey (Oxford: Oxford University, 1996): 246–86; and Clive Burgess, “London Parishes: Development in Context,” in Richard Britnell (ed.), Daily Life in the Late Middle Ages (Thrupp, Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1998): 151–74.

7 This pattern of fundraising is not an unusual one, Katherine L. French has noted a similar approach in several parishes, see, for example, French, The People of the Parish (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001): Chapter 4.

8 Richard Newcourt, Repertorium ecclesiasticum parochiale Londoniese. 2 vols (London: 1708): 1: 256.

9 Gerald A. J. Hodgett (ed.), The Cartulary of Holy Trinity Aldgate (London: London Record Society, 1971), no. 779; Mary C. Erler (ed.) Ecclesiastical London (London: The British Library; Toronto: The University of Toronto Press, 2008): lxxv–lxxvi; and John Schofield, “Saxon and Medieval Parish Churches in the City of London: A Review,” TLMAS 45 (1994): 86–9.

10 Schofield, “Saxon and Medieval Parish Churches in the City of London”: 86. Cal Husting, 1: 537.

11 Using the multiplier 1.33, which has become widely accepted since the work of Wrigley and Schofield. C.J. Kitching (ed.), London and Middlesex Chantry Certificates, 1548 (London: London Record Society, 1980): 37; Vanessa Harding, “The Population of London, 1550–1700: A Review of the Published Evidence,” LJ 15 (1990): 116; and E.A. Wrigley and R.S. Schofield, The Population History of England, 1541–1871: A Reconsideration (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989): 566.

12 The CWA Allhallows London Wall, 1455–1536, LMA MS P69/ALH5/B/003/MS05090/001, fo. 22a; Charles Welch (ed.), The Churchwardens’ Accounts of the Parish of Allhallows, London Wall, in the City of London. 33 Henry VI to 27 Henry VIII (A.D. 1455-A.D. 1536) (London: Privately Printed, 1912): 34.

13 R.N. Swanson, Indulgences in Late Medieval England: Passports to Paradise? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007): 31–2, 239, and 363–4.

14 Richard Newcourt, Repertorium ecclesiasticum parochiale Londoniese, 1: 256; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts of the Parish of Allhallows, London Wall, in the City of London. 33 Henry VI to 27 Henry VIII, vi.

15 MS05090/001, fo. 27r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 39.

16 Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, vi.

17 See www.carpentersco.com/; the Carpenters were never one of the more significant companies of London. See also, Caroline M. Barron, “Searching for the ‘Small People’ of Medieval London,” The Local Historian 38(2) (2008): 83–94.

18 Schofield, “Saxon and Medieval Parish Churches in London: A Review,” 87.

19 Mary C. Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution: Monks, Friars, and Nuns, 1530–1558 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013): 16; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xxi–xxii.

20 Penelope Hunter, The Tylers’ and Bricklayers’ History, available at: www.tylersandbricklayers.co.uk/about-us/history.

21 Newcourt, Repertorium ecclesiasticum parochiale Londoniese, 1: 256.

22 Erler, Ecclesiastical London, lxxv; Thomas Hugo, “The Hospital of Le Papey, in the City of London,” TLMAS 5(2) (1877): 185, 186, 1912; and John Stow, A Survey of London. Ed. Charles Lethbridge Kingsford. 2 vols (London: 1603; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908): 1: 161.

23 Caroline M. Barron, London in the Later Middle Ages: Government and People, 1200–1500 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004): 300.

24 Vanessa Harding acknowledges that Allhallows London Wall was among the poorest parishes in the city. See Vanessa Harding, The Dead and the Living in Paris and London, 1500–1670 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002): 40.

25 A.R. Myers, London in the Age of Chaucer (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1974): 74.

26 Frank Rexroth, Deviance and Power in Late Medieval London, trans. Pamela E. Selwyn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007): 60 ff.

27 Susan Brigden, London and the Reformation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991): 144–5.

28 Ibid.: 289–90.

29 Ian Archer, The Pursuit of Stability: Social Relations in Elizabethan England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991): 162.

30 Paul Griffiths, Lost Londons: Change, Crime and Control in the Capital City, 1550–1660 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008): 418. Similarly, the nearby parish of Saint Ethelburga created a list of all the children in the parish in a book “to call them to say their catechism.” See “The CWA of Saint Ethelburga the Virgin, Bishopsgate, 1569–1681,” LMA MS P69/ETH/B/006/MS04241/001, fo. 25.

31 Roger Finlay, Population and Metropolis: The Demography of London, 1580–1650 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981): 60.

32 MS05090/001, fos. 9r, 10r, 11v; 17r, and 17v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xiv, 14, 15, 17, and 26.

33 He is also described as a “whittawyere.” Cal Husting, 2: 252–3.

34 alt: Farbras. Cal Husting, 2: 568–9.

35 MS05090/001, fo. 21r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xi, xii, and 32.

36 Kitching, London and Middlesex Chantry, 37.

37 MS05090/001, last page; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xviii, 68.

38 Robert Bartlett, Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things? Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformers (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013): 389.

39 Sherry Reames, “The South English Legendary and its Major Latin Models,” in Heather Blurton and Jocelyn Wogen-Browne (eds.), Rethinking the South English Legendaries (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2011): 98–101.

40 Bartlett, Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things?, 118–20.

41 MS05090/001, fo. 2r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 2–3.

42 MS05090/001, fo. 8r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 12.

43 MS05090/001, fos. 8r, 15r, 31r, and 32v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xix, 13, 23, 44, and 46.

44 MS05090/001, fos. 17r and 36r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xix, 25, and 50.

45 Beat A. Kümin, The Shaping of a Community: The Rise and Reformation of the English Parish, c.1400–1560 (Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1996): 116.

46 Concerning Figure 1.2, with an appearance, each group received the value of 1 for the purposes of making the graph; if they are absent, then the category fails to appear. The occasional employment of a half [.5] value demonstrates some indication of minor activity.

47 The records are damaged but appear to end with a sum of expenses.

48 MS05090/001, fo. 1v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 2.

49 Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 144.

50 The entire paragraph draws from Ellen K. Rentz, Imagining the Parish in Late Medieval England (Columbus, OH: Ohio State University Press, 2015): 12–17.

51 Welch notes Carpenters’ Hall.

52 MS05090/001, fo. 19r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 28–9.

53 MS05090/001, fo. 38r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 52–3.

54 Byng discusses this construction project, labeling it as the “least remarkable” of the parishes he studied. See Gabriel Byng, Church Building and Society in the Later Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017): 62.

55 MS05090/001, fo. 42r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 57–8.

56 Ibid., 58.

57 Byng, Church Building and Society, 62.

58 MS05090/001, fo. 42v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 59.

59 There is an abbreviation mark after the double p.

60 Steve Rappaport, World within Worlds: Structures of Life in Sixteenth-Century London (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).

61 Gervase Rosser, “Parochial Conformity and Voluntary Religion in Late Medieval England,” TRHS sixth series 1 (1991): 173–89; and Gervase Rosser, “Going to the Fraternity Feast: Commensality and Social Relations in Late Medieval England,” JBS 33 (1994): 430–46.

62 The recreation of the activities of certain parish leaders is facilitated by the index created by Charles Welch in his transcription of the accounts. MS05090/001, fos. 5v, 7r, 8v, 9r, 10v, 11v, 16r, 18r, 18v, 19r, 22r, 24r, 27r, and 32r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 9, 11, 13, 14, 16, 18, 23, 27, 28, 29, 33, 36, 39, and 45.

63 MS05090/001, fos., 9r, 10v, 13r, 16r, 18r, 18v, 22r, 26r, 29r, and 30v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 14, 16, 20, 23, 27, 28, 33, 38, 41, 42, and 43; The Commissary Court Wills, LMA MS DL/C/B/004/MS09171/8, 1489–1502, fos. 190v–191r.

64 MS05090/001, fos. 14v, 16r, 18v, 19r, 22r, 23v, 24v, 26r, 26v, 27v, 28v, 30v, and 31v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 22, 24, 27, 28, 33, 35, 36, 38, 39, 41, 43, and 45.

65 MS05090/001, fos. 5v, 13r, 18v, and 21r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 9, 20, 28 and 32.

66 MS05090/001, fos. “vellum cover verso,” 2v, 4v, 8r, 8v, 9r and 18v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 1, 3, 7, 12, 13, 14, and 28.

67 Katherine French argues that the wives of churchwardens organized the Hocktide celebrations in the parish. French, The Good Women of the Parish, 175.

68 MS05090/001, fo. 15r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 23.

69 MS05090/001, fos. 5r, 5v, 13r, 16v, 18r, 19v, 20v, and 37r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 8, 9, 20, 23, 27, 28, 31, and 52.

70 John Schofield, The Building of London from the Conquest to the Great Fire (London: British Museum Press, 1993): 69–70.

71 Donald Findlay, All Hallows London Wall: A History and Description (London: Printed for the Guild Church Council, 1985): 37; Schofield, The Building of London, 69–70.

72 Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 16–17.

73 Ibid.: 14.

74 MS05090/001: 1458–1459, 1460–1461, 1469–1470, 1474–1475, 1477–1478, 1483–1484, 1486–1488, 1488, 1495–1496, 1509–1511, ?, 1528–1529.

75 MS05090/001, fos. 2v, 4v, 5v, 9r, 13r, 22v, 25v, 28r, and last page; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 4, 7, 9, 14, 20, 34, 38, 40, and 68.

76 MS05090/001, fo. 41r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 56.

77 MS05090/001, fo. 37r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 51.

78 Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 21; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xxx.

79 Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 17.

80 TNA PRO E117 4/81; Walters: 116.

81 Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 17.

82 J. Cooper, “Simon Appulby,” in H.C.G. Matthew and Brian Harrison (eds.), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 2: (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 307.

83 This entire paragraph is based on the work of Mary C. Erler. See Mary C. Erler, “A London Anchorite, Simon Appulby: His Fruyte of Redempcyon and Its Milieu,” Viator 29 (1998): 227–40.

84 Michał Spandowski, The Antidotarius Animae of Nicolaus de Saliceto as published by Kaspar Hochfeder, available at: http://polishlibraries.pl/article.php?a=17

85 Cooper, “Simon Appulby,” 307; Erler, “A London Anchorite,” 229; Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 14; Findlay, All Hallows London Wall, 37; The Fruyte of Redemption, sig. H2. The book of Symon the Anker was published in 1912, at the back of the transcriptions of the churchwardens’ accounts by Charles Welch.

86 The Fruyte of Redemption, sig. A4; Susan Brigden, London and the Reformation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991): 74–5; Charles Welch, “Simon the Anchorite,” in Stephen Leslie and Sidney Lee (eds.), Dictionary of National Biography, 52 (London: Oxford University Press, 1917), 264.

87 Brigden, London and the Reformation, 75; Erler, “A London Anchorite,” 229; Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 26 and 37.

88 MS05090/001, fo. 39v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 56.

89 Welch, “Simon the Anchorite”; MS05090/001, fos. 41v, 43r, 44r, 45v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 57, 60, 62, 63.

90 MS05090/001, fo. 39r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 55.

91 MS05090/001, fo. 46r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 64.

92 MS05090/001, fos. 16r, 22r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 23, 34.

93 MS05090/001, fo. 38r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 52–3.

94 MS05090/001, fo. 15v, 16r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 23.

95 Katherine French, “Well-Behaved Women Can Make History: Women’s Friendships in Late Medieval Westminster,” in Writing Women’s Lives, ed. Charlotte Newman Goldy and Amy Livingstone (New York: Palgrave, 2012): 255.

96 Katherine French has argued that the wives of churchwardens organized Hock ceremonies at Allhallows London Wall.

97 These two entries are adjacent and while the second does not explicitly mention Hock money, Mary C. Erler places both entries together as examples of Hock rituals. Erler, Ecclesiastical London, 33.

98 MS05090/001, fos. 2v, 4v, 33v, 38r, 39r; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 4, 7, 48, 52, 55.

99 Katherine L. French, “‘To Free Them from the Binding’: Women in the Late Medieval English Parish,” JIH 27 (1997): 389; P.J.P. Goldberg, trans. and ed., Women in England, c. 1275–1526 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995): 263.

100 Clive Burgess, “Pre-Reformation Churchwardens’ Accounts and Parish Government,” 316–17.

101 Victor Turner, The Ritual Process (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1979); Douglas F. Routledge, “Northumberland, Somerset, and the Politics of Change,” in Douglas F. Routledge (ed.), Ceremony and Text in the Renaissance (Newark, DE: University of Delaware Press, 1996): 78.

102 Katherine L. French, The Good Women of the Parish: Gender and Religion after the Black Death (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008): 175.

103 Erler, Ecclesiastical London, 29.

104 Ibid.: 45.

105 The CWA of Saint Botolph Aldgate, 1547–1585, P69/BOT2/B/012/MS09235/001, fo. 41r.

106 Jenny Kermode, Medieval Merchants: York, Beverley and Hull in the Later Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998): 153; Lester K. Little, Religious Poverty and the Profit Economy in Medieval Europe (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1983), especially Chapter 12.

107 Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xivff.

108 Eamon Duffy, “The Parish, Piety and Patronage in Late Medieval East Anglia,” in Katherine French, Gary Gibbs, and Beat Kümin (eds.), The Parish in English Life, 1400–1600 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997): 154; Sebastian Sutcliffe, “The Cult of St. Sitha in England: An Introduction,” Nottingham Medieval Society 37 (1993): 87.

109 Caroline Barron, “Medieval Pilgrim Badges of St Sitha,” in Jon Cotton, Jenny Hall, Jackie Keily, Roz Sherris and Roy Stephenson (eds.), “Hidden Histories and Records of Antiquity”: Essays on Saxon and Medieval London for John Clark, Curator Emeritus, Museum of London, London & Middlesex Archaeological Society Special Paper 17 (2014): 91–6; Gary G. Gibbs, “Four Coats for Our Lady: Gender, Space, and Marian Devotion in the Parish of Saint Stephen, Coleman Street, London 1466–1543,” Reformation 13 (2008): 18.

110 MS05090/001, fos., 8r, 24r, 33v, 43r, and 43v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 12, 36, 48, 59, and 61.

111 Cal Husting, 2: 26, 209, and 252–3; Erler, Reading and Writing during the Dissolution, 20 and 32; John Schofield, “Saxon and Medieval Parish Churches,” 87; H. F. Westlake, The Parish Gilds of Mediæval England (London: SPCK, 1919): 27.

112 Welch thinks this fraternity was extra-parochial. See MS05090/001, fo. 44v; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, xv, 63.

113 The will of Roger Bryknell, grocer (1422): TNA PROB 11–14–7.

114 MS05090/001, fo. 22a; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 34.

115 MS05090/001, fo. 27a, 29a, and 30b; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 39, 41, 44.

116 MS05090/001, fo. 29a; Welch, The Churchwardens’ Accounts, 42.

117 Peters, Patterns of Piety, 25–6.

118 Newcourt, Repertorium ecclesiasticum parochiale Londoniese.