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Christmas at Gray's Inn in the late Elizabethan period

Murder by Misrule, the first book in my Francis Bacon mystery series, is set at Gray’s Inn just before Christmas in 1586. The grand finale, when the murderer is revealed, takes place at the Christmas Eve feast in the Queen’s Banqueting Hall at Whitehall, before the queen and her court. For them, in fact, Bacon’s unmasking of the villain is part of the festivities.

The setting

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Gray’s Inn griffin

Most of my characters are lawyers or students in residence at Gray’s Inn. In the Elizabethan period, Gray’s was the largest and most prestigious of the four Inns of Court, the legal societies where barristers and judges lived when the courts were in session and young men came to learn the law. The other three are the Inner Temple, the Middle Temple, and Lincoln’s Inn.

In 1586, Gray’s Inn had some 350 members. Only about 200 resided at the Inn year-round; chambers were at a premium during this booming era. Everyone who was anyone wanted his son to spend at least a few years at an Inn of Court. Sir Walter Ralegh was a member of the Middle Temple. Lord Burghley, the Lord Treasurer, was a member of Gray’s, as was the 3rd Earl of Southampton, Henry Wriothesley. (These men did not spend time huddled in gloomy chambers poring over Littleton’s Tenures, but they did show up for the fun during the Christmas season.)

Christmas was a time of great revelry at the Inns of Court, with gambling, dancing, masques and plays, written and performed by the lawyers as well as by professional actors. Courtiers and their ladies might attend these events, and sometimes the gentlemen of the Inns were invited to present entertainments at court.

The legal term ended in early December; on Saturday, the 3rd in 1586. Most barristers packed up their bags and rode home for the holidays. Inner barristers, however, were obliged to remain in residence. These were mix of prospective lawyers and young gentlemen, who had come to learn the manners and customs of the English ruling class. The Christmas festivities were part of that training. Yes, you read that correctly: drinking and gambling formed part of the official curriculum. In fact, you could be fined for insisting on going home to your family.

Let the revels begin!

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Gray’s Inn hall

The Christmas fortnight was observed as ‘grand weeks.’ Beginning on Christmas Eve, the period of constant entertainment ran through Twelfth Night, January 6th. The treasure chest was opened to hire musicians and actors. The two upper butlers were allowed to keep gaming tables for their profit. I’ll bet they made a pretty penny.

You have to imagine the grand hall shown here in glorious Technicolor. That oak paneling has been polished to a fine gleam. Dinner was at noon, with revels beginning soon after, but evening comes early in England — the sun sets at about 16:00 GMT. Then the hall is filled with candles — expensive, fragrant beeswax during this special season. Warm candlelight reflects from the glossy oak and illuminates the stained glass in the high windows. Each panel holds the coat of arms of a notable member, like Francis Bacon’s father Sir Nicholas, the late Lord Keeper of the Great Seal.

Tables are scattered about the hall on gaming nights. Masques and plays are performed on the dais at the top of the hall, with musicians in the gallery over the screen that sheltered the front entrance. We’re standing just inside the screen in the illustration above.

On nights without visitors, the gentlemen of the Inn would dance with one another after the tables were removed. A large brazier in the center of the hall provided both heat and something to dance around. The Cinque Pas (five steps), the Galliard, the Pavan: dancing was an essential skill for gentlemen, especially the young. It was a social form of martial arts training, demanding many of the same skills: grace, balance, stamina, agility, and rhythm.

Out in the villages and humbler precincts of London, mummers roamed the streets at Christmastide. On Christmas eve and morning, carolers would come out to sing. The Inns of Court were fairly isolated outside the western fringe of London, but I’ll bet the young men of the Inns caroled one another.

Our lawyers, young and old, attended their chapel first thing every morning. I don’t find any mentions of extra church attendance for Christmas. Puritans, of course, shuttered their windows and barred their doors. They loathed Christmas as a pagan ritual and disdained to participate in any of popish nonsense like mumming or caroling or trying to divine who you would marry. There were plenty of Calvinists at Gray’s Inn, but they undoubtedly went home when the courts adjourned. Bacon’s mother was a very strict Calvinist. I’ll bet he welcomed the excuse of court attendance to stay at Gray’s and join in the fun.

The clothes

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Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex

The grand hall would be plainly decorated, apart from green wreaths of holly, ivy, and yew with red berries and ribbons. The principal decorations on a festive night would be the wide silk dresses of the ladies and the silk melon hose (puffy pants) of the men. Both sexes wore hats with feathers and absolutely dripped with jewelry. The lawyers, of course, wore their black legal gowns, but left them open at the front to let their own bright costumes shine through.

Here’s the Earl of Essex, Bacon’s patron in the 1590s. He would certainly have come for gaming and plays. So would his sister Penelope, Lady Rich. Her skirts would get wider as the years went by, until she occupied better than a yard in diameter. I can’t imagine very many ladies fitting into that hall in such costumes, but what barrister in his right mind would complain?

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Penelope, Lady Rich, by Nicholas Hilliard

 

 

 

 

The food

Christmastide also meant endless feasts, with plenty for all. They ate better at the Inns of Court than at the universities, but they undoubtedly still relied upon cheap, yet wholesome, dishes like pottage and mutton during the regular term.

Not at Christmas, however, especially not with the Lord Treasurer sharing the top table!  Brawn (roast pork) with mustard was a great favorite, along with roast beef or perhaps even venison sent from home. Mince pies, frumenty, plum porridge, and Christmas pie would grace the tables as well.

Many barrels of drink would be consumed: wine, beer, and ale. Wine could be red or white and would have been pressed within the past year. They couldn’t preserve it for long. The Elizabethans liked their wine spiced and watered, with a dose of sugar.

In fact, they liked everything well-spiced. We would probably find their feasts overly seasoned and terribly rich. They did eat vegetables, although there wouldn’t be much available in this season. They might have leeks and cabbages. Carrots were a novelty; they might have those to show how au courant and gastronomically sophisticated they were. They would eat them with spoons, because forks were still only an Italian affectation.

The play’s the thing

The first known performance of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night took place at the Middle Temple in 1602. The Comedy of Errors was performed at Gray’s Inn in 1594. He must have been there; no ambitious young man would miss a chance to make a good impression at an Inn of Court. And Francis Bacon must have been there too.

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Gentleman portraying a fanciful knight

Furthermore, they must have met and spoken to one another, because Bacon usually helped write the masques performed during the Christmas season. Masques were the elaborately costumed presentations of some allegory designed to flatter — and in Bacon’s case — gently instruct a monarch or other important patron. Dumb shows were also often devised to precede a play; Bacon might have had a hand in those occasionally as well. They preferred to coordinate these various forms thematically. So two of the most brilliant — no, the two most brilliant writers of this period probably worked together, at least a little bit, for that Christmas entertainment in 1594.

Lords of Misrule

Electing a Lord of Misrule (aka Abbot of Unreason) was another tradition carried forward from Roman times and almost at its end. Residential societies like university colleges and the Inns of Court would elect a Lord and his council, giving them absurdly pompous titles. At Gray’s, they chose a Prince of Purpoole from among the inner barristers. He and his entourage would travel to the Inner Temple (about a quarter of mile) in a grand retinue with pennants and drummers on an ambassadorial mission loaded with silly ceremonials. If you’re longing to read some of their nonsense, scroll down to the bottom of this post

What about the presents?

We don’t exchange gifts at Christmas in this period. We do that at New Year’s. Wise courtiers offered presents to the queen, such as a bag of silver coins (polished, one supposes) or any sort of jewelry. In 1601, Francis Bacon gave Elizabeth a white satin petticoat, richly embroidered “with feathers and billets, snakes and fruitages.” This was nothing whatsoever like giving lingerie to your boss! The queen’s wardrobe was part of the state treasury. That petticoat must have cost Bacon several pounds. I imagine his mother and aunts advised him on its purchase.

According to the Elizabethan Compendium, ordinary people might give each other oranges, marzipan, or wine — all luxuries from Spain. Gentlemen and their wives would send each other dainties from their estates, like a peacock or a brace of coneys. I think Bacon would have exchanged books with close friends on this annual occasion, perhaps from their own libraries. My character Tom would have given every woman who was ever nice to him, especially the whores and laundresses, a pretty silk ribbon.

 

The season of Misrule

The season of Misrule is a descendent of Saturnalia, the Roman festival of the winter solstice. Somehow coming back hourglassaround to the sunny side of our orbit suggested the inversion of social structures to the Ancient Ones. Turn the hourglass over, reach the limit and do an about-face; I suppose that’s more or less the logic, if logic has any role in this season of Unreason.

The Wikipedia article about Saturnalia is long and interesting; I recommend it. It was one of many Graeco-Roman holidays involving role reversals. (The only one we have that I can think of is a Sadie Hawkins dance, surely now nearly obsolete.)

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Saturnalia was hugely popular. Everybody got the day off work, slaves were waited upon by masters, gifts were exchanged. Gambling was allowed, standards of behavior were relaxed, people got loose. This made it the holiday to beat, which is why Christmas happens when it does.

Everything is founded on something else. It really is turtles all the way down.

 

Abbot of Unreason 

Early Christianity adopted the role reversal portion of the ancient festival, with the license for looser behavior. Wikipedia tells us that the Lord of Misrule or the Abbot of Unreason was an officer appointed by drawing lots to preside over the Feast of Fools. The intention was that someone low on the institution’s totem pole, like a peasant or a boy, would be made ruler for one day of wild partying instead of sober work and worship. Wild by monkish standards; I’m sure they sat around the table drinking wine and giggling themselves sick over obscure academic jokes. The Boy Bishop could order his superiors around, though custom constrained his powers. He could make the real bishop cut his meat for him or dance a jig; temporary, funny, harmless things.

Misrule at the Elizabethan Inns of Court

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The educated sophisticates of Jacobethan times got a big kick out of medieval gags like the Lord of Misrule. There was no misrule in Elizabeth’s Court, but the universities, Inns of Court, and trade guilds had great fun with the tradition. Too much fun sometimes; a drunken riot followed the choosing of a Lord of Misrule at Pembroke Hall at Cambridge University in 1628.

The City of London chose a Lord of Misrule and held a procession of Morris dancers, followed by the Lord’s Council, followed by the Lord himself in a gown of gold brocade. A Lord of Misrule entered the City from Whitechapel with a great company and many guns and halberds, trumpets blowing. They rode through Newgate, in at Ludgate, round about St. Paul’s and into Cheapside and so home to Aldgate.mardi_gras_wikicom

This was a time when real processions displaying real lords and ladies occurred at regular intervals. But people in all times and places enjoy hitting the streets in their fancy duds. The magnificent personages shown here were part of the Mardi Gras parade in Shreveport.

Gesta Grayorum 1594

The Gesta was Gray’s record of their “law sports” — their misruly entertainments. This volume happened to be preserved because it mentions a performance — possibly the first — of Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors.

Gray’s Inn would never be outdone by mere City men. Every year when the Michaelmas term ended (Saturday, Dec. 3 in 1586), they elected a court of Misrule, led by the Prince of Purpoole. (Purpoole was the name of a lane east of Gray’s Inn Road.)

Here’s a typical sample of the pompous nonsense they found amusing:

“After many Consultations had hereupon, by the Youths, and others that were moil forward herein, at length, about the II th [2nd] of December, with the Consent and Assistance of the Readers and Ancients, it was determined, that there should be elected a Prince of Purpoole, to govern our State for the time ; which was intended to be for the Credit of Grays Inn, and rather to be performed by witty Inventions, than chargeable Expenses.”

They elected a full Privy Council, ten Gentlemen Pensioners to attend on the prince’s person, and a guard with a Captain to defend him. Their activities seem to have consisted chiefly of sending diplomatic missions to the other Inns of Court and receiving such missions at Gray’s. We can assume an abundance of liquid refreshment at these august encounters. The prince and 80 retainers dined in state with the Lord Mayor and his retainers at Crosby Place (once owned by the Duke of Gloucester.) They had their masques, written by Graysians like Francis Bacon, and sometimes players, written and performed by professional players.

Here’s another taste, this time describing the appalling conditions under which Mr. Shakespeare’s plays were performed. One imagines he was used to it, although it sounds like Inns of Court society was far less orderly than the audience at the Globe. Remember how big the clothes worn by these “worshipful Personages” crowding onto the stage and how drunk half of them must have been!

“When the Ambassador was placed, as aforesaid, and that there was something to be performed for the Delight of the Beholders, there arose such a disordered Tumult and Crowd upon the Stage, that there was no Opportunity to effect that which was intended: There came so great a number of worshipful Personages upon the Stage, that might not be displaced; and Gentlewomen, whose Sex did privilege them from Violence, that when the Prince and his Officers had in vain, a good while, expected and endeavored a Reformation, at length there was no hope of Redress for that present. The Lord Ambassador and his Train [from the Inner Temple] thought that they were not so kindly entertained, as was before expected, and thereupon would not stay any longer at that time, but, in a sort, discontented and displeased. After their Departure the Throngs and Tumults did somewhat cease, although so much of them continued, as was able to disorder and confound any good Inventions whatsoever. In regard whereof, as also for that the Sports intended were especially for the gracing of the Templarians it was thought good not to offer any thing of Account, saving Dancing and Reveling with Gentlewomen; and after such Sports, a Comedy of Errors (like to Plautus his Menechmus [another play about mixed-up sets of twins]) was played by the Players. So that Night was begun, and continued to the end, in nothing but Confusion and Errors; whereupon, it was ever afterwards called, the Night of Errors.”

 

 

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