THE PETTY CONSTABLE IN SHAKSPERE'S TIME. BY GRACE LATHAM, AUTHOR OF READING AS AN ART,' 'THE STAGE AS A PROFESSION FOR GIRLS.'

THERE is a class of literature which we say is for all time; it deals with the general characteristics of humanity, the sins, sorrows, joys, and vanities which each generation has in about equal measure. On such subjects the wisdom of yesterday is as fresh as though uttered to-day; and when, in Shakspere, it is coupled with exquisite poetry and strong dramatic expression of keenly-observed human nature, the ordinary reader hardly feels the lapse of time since his plays were first published. But in reality they teem with allusions to political and social events, customs, follies, abuses of his day; and many a passage which now seems pointless must, when first written, have cut deep, and have roused the house to laughter and applause.

The notes to the most important editions of Shakspere help us to a certain extent, but of necessity in too fragmentary a fashion to assist the imagination to realise the force of the allusions. It is far more interesting to create for ourselves pictures of the times in which Shakspere lived by which to explain his works; and we are mightily assisted in our labour by the cheap modern reprints of sixteenth-century books, and the publication of its records, which place within reach of the general public what the scholar of a century ago could scarcely obtain.

As we read we seem to see old London; beautiful houses with peaked roofs, ornamental fronts, and projecting upper stories, whose lattice windows, then a comparatively modern refinement, projected over narrow streets strewn with piles of filth and refuse, inviting the too-frequent pestilence. Here, notwithstanding, sat the housewives at their doors, taking the air and watching the passers-by. The player in his silken cloak, an evidence of prosperity that excited the ire of the Puritans; the grave divine,

the bold 'prentice and his master; the merchant in his oldfashioned long gown; my lord in velvet and embroidery, padded breeches, and a jewel in his ear; the Court physician, followed by his man, with a rapier at his side, just as Shakspere shows us in Doctor Caius and Jack Rugby in the Merry Wives of Windsor; the young gentlemen of the Inns of Court and their wild associates, intent, perhaps, on making a row, and lacerating and prostrating' some worthy citizen's windows. We get a glimpse of them in the reminiscences of old Shallow in the first part of Henry IV.

Life and property were very insecure under Elizabeth. The citizen kept much of his wealth in his house in the form of plate, jewels, 'numbered money,' and linen, then hand-made and a valuable. There were constant burglaries; shop-lifting was even more common than now; 'the cut-purse of quick hand' (Henry V., Act V., Scene 2) stripped the pouch from the citizen's side as he passed along the street, the cloak from his shoulders, the wrought falling-band with its tag of gold from his wife's neck. In the roads around town highway robbery was frequent. The merchant was relieved of horse, purse, clothes, and all; the curate of the holy vessels he had come up to London to buy; so that men rode together for company and protection. (See Henry IV., Part I., Act I., Scene 2; Act II., Scenes I and 2.)

The lawlessness was so great, and the streets so insecure, that men went armed; and this again led to a fearful amount of crime. A dispute, a drunken squabble, and out came knives and swords. Duels were common. A peaceable citizen might be set upon, and have to fight for his life, and if he killed his man, had then to prove that he had not been the aggressor, and had done his utmost to avoid a fray, retreating, till stopped by the wall, before turning on his assailants; and failing to do this, he was hung without mercy. This state of things is faithfully reflected by Shakspere, both in long scenes and in detached passages; and it is easy to understand that the constable of that time was quite incapable of keeping so turbulent a population in check, and that the darkness of the streets at night favoured an enormous amount of ill-behaviour; so that the chances of the escape of an evil-doer were too many for the ferocious laws of the time to act as deterrents.

The blue-coated policeman of to-day, who takes up his work as a profession, remaining in it for perhaps twenty years or more,

is trained to act singly or in a body, is officered, organised, respects himself and his position, has a pension to look forward to at the end of his service, and is a very different person from his direct official ancestor the constable of the vill, or petty constable of Elizabeth's time. He was elected for a year only, so that he could gain no experience worth having. In the country by the freemen of his tithing, or twelfth division of the hundred at a court leet. In Warwickshire only every third borough had a constable; hence his name there was thirdborough,' or 'tharborough'; and in Shakspere's earliest play, Love's Labour's Lost, written when he was fresh from Stratford life, he introduced the honest, thick-headed Dull as his grace's tharborough' (Act I., Scene 1). In London the City was divided into twenty-six wards, and these again into precincts; and the inhabitants of each nominated their constable on St. Thomas's Day. An innkeeper could not be constable; probably he had too great a temptation to connive at certain forms of wrong-doing. Barbers, butchers, fellows and members of the College of Physicians, and some other classes were also exempted; but knights and gentlemen, physicians not belonging to the College, tradespeople, merchants, all the respectable well-to-do folk of the division were eligible; as the office was both dangerous and disagreeable, it was by no means easy to get those chosen to serve; and proceedings were often taken against them in consequence. 'For as much,' runs a Sessions of the Peace order, dated by the Middlesex magistrates in the second year of King James I., 'that William Goodall, constable of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, hath made complaint that divers knights and gentlemen, being inhabitants there, do refuse to watch and ward according to the law. It is therefore ordered by the Court that the constables and officers of the place aforesaid shall upon sight hereof repair to the houses of the knights and other gentlemen, requiring them by virtue hereof to watch and ward as they ought to do, or return their answer to the justice next adjoining' (Middlesex Sessions Rolls, edited by J. Cordy Jeffreson).

It was, however, possible for a constable who was sick, or who did not wish to serve, to nominate a deputy, for whom he was responsible until sworn in; and it seems to have been a common but somewhat irregular practice, for Shakspere alludes to it in Measure for Measure, Act II., Scene 1.

'Escalus. Come hither, master constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

"Elbow. Seven year and a half, sir.

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'Esc. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it? "Elb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to chose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all.

'Esc. Look you, bring me the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.

' Elb. To your worship's house, sir?

'Esc. To my house. Fare you well.'

We find in the law dictionary of Giles Jacob, edition 1797, 'Common law requires each constable to be "fit," i.e. to have honesty, knowledge, and ability, as well in estate as in body, and not to neglect his duty through impotence or poverty. He must be an inhabitant of his parish.' And Elbow, like many another, was not 'fit.' Dogberry is angrily protesting his 'fitness,' after Conrad has called him an ass, when he says:—

I am a wise fellow; and, which is more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and everything handsome about him' (Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV., Scene 2).

And it is another allusion to the same technical fitness required in Act III., Scene 3.

'Verges. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.

'Dogberry. First, who thinks you the most desartless man to be constable?

'First Watch. Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read.

'Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed you with a good name; to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature. . . . You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern.'

The keeping watch and ward over the streets by night was one of the special duties of the constable as a 'conservator of the peace,' and this charging of the watch, a duty of their chief; but it was legally Dogberry's duty to be in the company of these, his ministers and assistants, instead of going comfortably home to bed. Clad in a long clinging black gown, which must have wofully impeded his movements in a fray, with a cumbersome

brown bill, which could however, inflict very severe wounds, on his shoulder, a bell in one hand, and in the other a lanthorn, whose flickering light was absolutely necessary to guide him through the ill-kept streets, the constable could scarcely have been provided with a less practical costume, since his efficiency must often have depended on his activity and secrecy. Dogberry reminds Otecake and Seacole not to let their bills be stolen, showing that they were often laid aside, while their owners rested, and lost. The constable had not only to stop all frays, but to provide for the quiet of the streets. No man might blow a horn, or whistle out of doors, after nine at night under pain of imprisonment; 'no hammerman, or a smith, a pewterer, a founder, and all artificers making great sound, shall not work after the hour of nine at night. No man shall, after the hour of nine at night, keepe any rule, wherebye any such sudden outcry be made in the still of the night, as making any affray, or beating his wife, or servant, or singing, or reviling in his house, to the disturbance of his neighbours, under payne of 3 shillings and 4 pence ('Statutes of the Streets,' A.D. 1595).

The constable had power to break into houses where such tumults were going on, or into those tenanted by evil-disposed persons. It is to this that Dogberry alludes when he bids the watch not to babble and talk, or make any noise in the street, to 'call at all the ale-houses and bid those that are drunk get them home,' and if a child cry in the night to call to the nurse, and bid her still it.'

Another very important part of the constable's duty was to stop and question all travellers, night-walkers, or folk who were out late on their business. The authorities in that age of conspiracy were very jealous of all unexplained travelling, and the watch could arrest a man on mere suspicion, and keep him till morning; when, if he could give a proper account of himself, he was allowed to go. We find in the Middlesex Sessions Rolls that in the second year of King James the First, recognizances were taken for one Robert Massey's appearance at the next Session of the Peace to answer, For coming over the water in a suspicious manner in the company of two women after twelve of the clock at night, and so taken by the constables of St. Martin in their watch,' and other recognizances were taken for the appearance of Thomas Evans of Lambeth, waterman, and Katherine Williams, wife of Nicholas Williams, waterman, to answer respecting the same suspicious passage across the river,