An Accidental History of Tudor England

Disclaimer: the reviewer is an ex-student of Professor Steven Gunn.

The English were, historically, good at paperwork. As a solicitor myself, this is something which I greatly admire. By the late Middle Ages, England had, by European standards, a relatively sophisticated system of investigating and recording deaths; in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, that system was increasingly codified into statute. In 1487, an Act of Parliament was passed which commanded coroners to hand in their inquest reports to the assize judges, who brought them back to the Court of King's Bench in Westminster where they were filed.

This was then followed by an Act in 1510 which ordered coroners to make sure they held inquests on all sudden deaths, not just homicides, and do so speedily so that bodies would not lie 'longe above ground unburyed to the great noyaunce of the Kynges leage people'.

Getting the facts straight

So, if you lived in Tudor England and were unfortunate enough to suffocate to death in a pool of mud (which could in fact happen) then you would at least have the satisfaction of knowing in your last moments that a nice gentlemen would turn up and ensure that all the details of your death were properly recorded.

That person (the coroner) would summon a jury, ask that jury questions (when did you die? how? etc.) and the jury (perhaps composed of your neighbours and / or work colleagues) would provide answers to the best of their abilities. The result was a coroners' inquest report which would, in most cases (but not all, different counties have different rules), find its way back to London to be filed away for posterity and with a pretty good survival rate.

Posterity then provided two diligent Oxford historians (Steven Gunn (professor of early modern history at Merton College, Oxford) and Tomasz Gromelski (research fellow at Wolfson College Oxford)) who have spent the last few years working their way through those reports (8,888 of them for the period 1500-1600, covering about half of the 9,000 or so parishes in England which existed at the time) to find out what we can learn.

It turns out we can learn rather a lot. I know they have been working on this for some time, as I sat next to one of them (a former tutor of mine) at a college dinner well over 10 years ago, and he was telling me about this project then.

Who do we have to thank?

This book left me with a great deal of respect for the coroners and the juries who put in the hard work to make sure that these things were done properly. Juries tended to be composed of what we might refer to nowadays as the middle classes (gentry, yeoman, etc.). By and large, they took their responsibilities seriously and discharged them with some diligence.

Inquests could be short or go on for months, but the reports are for the most part detailed, plausible, and serious minded. The authors note that, far from living up to contemporary stereotypes by ascribing accidents to divine (or diabolic) causes, the reports mostly seek non-supernatural explanations of the events described.

Why is it interesting?

The coroners' reports provide a window into the lives of ordinary Englishmen and women in a way offered by few other sources – anyone could (and did) die of accidents: the rich and the poor, the old and young, men and women, those living in towns and the countryside. They could also die in all sorts of situations – whilst at work, at play, whilst travelling or stationary.

Unlike many other sources, no particular categories of person are excluded. Diaries are an increasingly important source of evidence for this period (I have painful memories as a student, of Dr Gunn making me read the diary of a very dull Elizabethan Puritan lady) but by necessity required the writer to be literate.

The 8,888 coroner's reports cover 9,291 victims

Steve Gunn, Tomasz Gromelski, An accidental history of Tudor England

The 8,888 reports cover 9,291 victims, ranging from an 8-year-old who fell out of bed and into a fire while sleeping with his drunken widowed mother, to a man reputed to be 108 years old who fell from the roof of a stable reaching out for his thatcher's needle. The reports include the death of the 7-year-old Lord Dacre, the inheritor of a peerage title, who was crushed by his wooden vaulting horse. They also include the homeless and sometimes nameless, such as a girl who fell off the steps of a windmill after a night sheltering in a beacon house (where those tending the fire beacons to warn of foreign invasion kept themselves out of the weather).

As can be seen from the examples provided, what makes the inquest reports interesting is not just (or even primarily) what we can learn about accidental deaths themselves, but rather the adjacent information on the circumstances in which the accident occurred. Many of the reports provide detailed summaries of the events leading up to the accident. Sometimes that information is quite peripheral to the death itself, but gives fascinating insights in sixteenth century life, like the servants who rushed outside with a brass tub and a small cowbell to calm swarming bees and charm them into a hive (the actual death was of the unfortunate girl left behind, who fell into a tub of water).

Getting on with things

What we are given is a picture of everyday life in Tudor England. People often died doing everyday mundane things, like reading books or fetching water. This type of social history is for me the most interesting. As the authors note:

Conflict, change and resistance generated more evidence than simply getting on with things. But getting on with things is what most people did most days.

Steve Gunn, Tomasz Gromelski, An accidental history of Tudor England

The tone of the book is never flippant. The authors are respectful of the fact that these were real people, and the circumstances were often tragic (particularly the large numbers of unattended children who died, often through no fault of the parents, who had housework and chores which could not be left undone). The names of victims are always given.

We are also, occasionally, given glimpses of the more famous events and trends of the day. For example, Henry Skatergoode was hit on the head by a stone thrown down by a labourer dismantling the bell tower of a recently dissolved monastery. Henry Siesly, listening to a sermon, was hit on the head by a volume of the works of Heinrich Bullinger, the Zurich theologian popular with puritans.

The familiar and the strange world of Tudor England

One of the things I most enjoyed about this book is the mixture of the familiar and the strange. This is the type of history book which gives you a feel for a different time in a way that few other history books can achieve. What you get the sense of are people not that different from ourselves, going about their lives, working, travelling, and having fun.

The circumstances in which they do those things can be very different from our own, and make you reflect on the aspects of modern life that we would otherwise take for granted. In other ways, the challenges and situations they faced have similarities with those we face today.

The authors make the point that people were not needlessly careless with their own lives or the lives of those dependent on them – there is plenty of evidence for people taking safety precautions where it was possible to do so; but the nature of their lives and work often forced them to take risks that could not be avoided (for example, mothers and servants leaving children unattended in order to complete household chores).

Let's delve into some of these inadvertently hazardous activities...

Editor's interjection: you can have a look at the full dataset of accidents online, in handy csv or xlsx format. I looked up my childhood town of Newbury in Berkshire which appeared to be a relatively dangerous place to live, with the River Kennet being a particular hazard.

🌊 Beware the water

One aspect of modern life I have not previously given much thought to is access to water in our homes. In 16th century England, drowning was by far the most common cause of accidental death, making up 43% of reported accidental deaths, a far higher percentage than modern Britain (but not far off the percentage in certain developing countries today).

One of the reasons for this is that, unlike us, a Tudor householder had no direct access to water in the home.

Water collection led to nearly one in twenty accidental deaths, one in eight for women and girls over the age of five. Drinking, cooking with water, brewing, washing (yourself, your children, clothes, dishes), all required trips to the nearest water source, which might be a well, pond, or nearby river. This was often undertaken by women (housewives, children, servants) wearing multiple layers of heavy woollen clothing.¹ Water had to be collected year-round, often in icy conditions.

Others died falling off bridges which might be little more than wooden planks, sometimes while also trying to navigate across livestock or carts. John Tydde died whilst attempting to pole-vault across a stretch of water to check on his cattle (his stake snapped). People died whilst trying to save others from drowning, including their own children. Others (particularly the young) died whilst playing and having fun in water.

🛞 Travel, potholes, and mud

Like today, travelling by road could be dangerous. Carts and wagons accounted for one in six accidental deaths which is a higher proportion than road traffic deaths now. If modern cars feel dangerous, at least they have breaks – imagine trying to lead a horse and cart down a steep slope.

It turns out that England has also long had a problem with potholes and poorly maintained roads, which you may or may not find comforting next time your car's suspension is ruined. Francis Turner broke his neck jumping from his cart into a wheel-rut. The problem was so acute that it led to legislation in 1555, which noted that:

highways were “nowe bothe verie noisome and tedious to travell in and dangerous to all passengers and cariages”

Steve Gunn, Tomasz Gromelski, An accidental history of Tudor England

A sentiment that many today will sympathise with.²

Following that legislation, there was an increasing incidence of accidents involving workmen maintaining roads.

💩 Death by mud and poo

If problems with potholes continue to plague us, thankfully death by mud is a less common hazard nowadays. In Tudor England, mud could be deadly. William Peers was crushed by his horse as it tried to drag itself out of a deep muddy pool in the middle of Henherst Lane in Staplehurst, Kent. Peter Cowles got stuck in mud on a walk and died of cold and exhaustion. Henry VIII got stuck in mud trying to jump over a stream whilst on a hawking trip but had a servant to drag him out.

Tudor poo was also dangerous. Geoffrey Lyteljohn had a 'jaques' set over a pond, but the seat broke at 3 a.m. when he was relieving himself. John Dunkyn, a Cambridgeshire baker, fell drunken backwards into a cess pit whilst pooing – the jurors said he was 'qweasomed' by the stench.

🚧 Working

Our working lives are generally safer today than they were in 16th century England. Work on the land involved multiple hazards. A surprisingly large number of accidents involved stacked crops falling on top of people – this was more deadly than firearms. Working with fish could also be dangerous - Henry Walytt died in Exton, Rutland, when a fish wrapped in a canvas cloth fell on top of him whilst he slept and suffocated him to death.³

Fruit was roughly as deadly as firearms (for example, a person might fall from a tree collecting fruit). One accident in six in Herefordshire involved a tree. Many accidents occurred in or around mills, where the combination of heavy machinery and powerful forces could be fatal.

Work related accidents happened to children as well. For the typical Tudor householder, work life and domestic chores were less demarcated than they are today, particularly for women and children. Children were put to work at a young age, either helping at home or as servants or apprentices elsewhere. For those between the ages of 7 and 13, numbers of accidental deaths arising from work and play were roughly equal.

⚽ Playing sport

If you managed to get through your working day without any mishaps, you might choose to unwind with a game of football with friends.

Football had no codified rules and appears to have been a cross between what we would call 'football' (in the UK meaning), rugby, with a bit of a general ruckus thrown in. In Cornwall, it was known as 'whurlyng' which gives some sense of the slightly chaotic nature of the game, which had few rules. Inevitably, it led to many accidents. Some embraced this side of the game, with Isaac Fakker calling out 'Let us make work for the surgeons' as he charged at his opponents.

Let us make work for the surgeons

Isaac Fakker playing football in Tudor England

A lot of sporting accidents involved falling on knives. The authors explain that almost everyone carried a knife with them, as it was the principal means of cutting up and eating food (forks were still relatively rare in this period); and it probably would not have been practical to leave a pile of knives on the sidelines whilst a game of football was played (both because of the risk of the knife being stolen and also because of arguments which may have ensued regarding which knife belonged to whom). As a result, it was usual for men to run around with knives still hanging on their belt. The resulting accidents are not then difficult to imagine.⁴

If running around playing a weird football/rugby mix whilst carrying a knife on your belt sounds dangerous, there were even riskier ways to entertain yourself. Wrestling was a favourite pastime for the Tudor Englishman, with the dividing line between play and confrontation not always easy to discern from the reports. Englishmen were required by law to practice archery with the longbow, and there were many accidents involving innocent bystanders being hit by stray arrows. But my personal favourite Tudor pastime is the game of 'throwing the sledgehammer' which substituted for football in the summer months. If the UK ever hosts the Olympic games again, hopefully we will push for its reintroduction.

🍺 Having fun and courtship

Some means of having fun have endured better than sledgehammer throwing. People today still enjoy dancing and having a drink, often in combination. Then, like now, the alcohol/dance combination could be used by young men in a forlorn attempt to impress young ladies. William Lamley, for example, fell into boiling water whilst drunkenly dancing on one leg whilst showing off to female servants.⁵

Accidents involving alcohol were, then as now, a common theme. George Hewet died whilst drunkenly propelling his boat down the Tyne paddling with his feet, one off each side. James Johnson, alias 'Harvie', was in the appropriately named Deadman's Lane in Southwark where he was 'barely possessed of a healthy and calm mind from his great drunkenness'. He pulled down his breeches to empty his bowels but fell into a ditch dead-first and suffocated in the water, mud, and filth. I used to live in Southwark myself and that story brought back some happy memories.

Love could (and still does) inspire rash behaviour, with or without the involvement of alcohol. A young man described as feeling an ardent desire for marriage ran towards a young lady who was holding a willow rod which accidentally poked him in the eye, killing him from the injury.

Final Destination

There were times when I felt like I was reading the script for a Final Destination movie set in Tudor England.⁶ Causes of death could be convoluted. Thomas Alsopp died in Coventry whilst standing in what had been the cemetery of the Greyfriars when a maypole fell over. It missed him but hit the city wall behind and dislodged a stone, which struck him on the head. There is more than one death by falling meat: Elizabeth Bowne, a servant, was sitting by the fire when four flitches of bacon fell from the chimney on top of her.

Conclusion

This is an excellent book which provides unique insights into the day to day lives of ordinary Tudor men and women. If you want to learn about how people lived (and died) in Tudor England, this is a great place to come.

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