How to read the Paston Letters #5

More Margaret

Bodleian MS Douce 208, f.1r

Time for our next instalment from the Paston Letters. And it’s a good one: Margaret’s always good. At this point she’s still only twenty-one or so, but – as she has done from the very beginning – she leaps off the page.

Just before we get going, some housekeeping. This is this month’s post that’s free to read – and I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s choosing to be here. The life of a freelance medieval historian can seem, at times, like a quixotic quest, and your support and company here on Substack make an enormous difference. For anyone tempted to join our Paston Letters read-through on a regular basis, I should add that my next task (once I work out how to do it) is to reorganise The H Files’s homepage so that different threads and categories, including this one, are easier to find and follow. I hope you’ll enjoy – and do let me know what you think.

Now for fifteenth-century Norfolk.

We’re probably in 1443, for reasons we’ll come to with the contents of the letter,¹ which was dictated by Margaret to be sent to her husband John in London, but written by two different scribes. One took down the body of the message; the other added the address and postscript on the reverse of the paper, which would become the outside when the letter was folded and sealed shut. It’s not only the two clerks’ handwriting that’s distinctly different, but their spelling: look out for the shift in the last few lines of the text below, after Margaret’s sign-off.

The letter is long enough that I thought perhaps I should break it into paragraphs to make it easier to tackle. Sounding words out loud might help if they seem otherwise bewildering.

Here we go.

On the outside, traces of red wax from the seal, and the address:

To my rygth worchepful husbond Jhon Paston dwellyng in þe Innere Temple at London in hast

And on the inside:

Ryth worchipful hosbon I recomande me to yow desyryng hertely to here of your wilfare thanckyng god of your a mendyng of þe grete dysese þat ye have hade and I thancke yow for þe letter þat ye sent me for be my trowthe my moder and I were nowth in hertys es fro þe tyme þat we woste of your sekenesse tyl we woste verely of your a mendyng. My moder hat be hestyd a nodyr ymmage of wax of þe weytte of yow to oyur lady of Walsyngham and sche sent iiij nobelys to þe iiij orderys of frerys at Norweche to pray for yow and I have be hestyd to gon on pylgreymmays to Walsingham and to Sent Levenardys for yow. Be my trowth I had neuer so hevy a sesyn as I had fro þe tyme þat I woste of your sekenesse tyl I woste of your a mendyng and ȝyth myn hert is in no grete esse ne nowth xal be tyl I wot þat ȝe ben very hol.

Your fader and myn was dysday sevenyth at Bekelys for a matyr of the pryor of Bromholme and he lay at Gerlyston þat nyth and was þer tyl it was ix of þe cloke and þe toder day. And I sentte thedyr for a gounne and my moder seyde þat I xulde non have dens tyl I had be þer a ȝen and so þei cowde non gete. My fader Garneyss sentte me worde þat he xulde ben here þe nexth weke and my emme also and pleyn hem here wyth herre hawkys and þei xulde have me hom wyth hem. And so god help me I xal exscusse me of myn goyng dedyr yf I may for I sopose þat I xal redelyer have tydyngys from yow herre dan I xulde have þer.

I xal sende my moder a tokyn þat sche toke me for I sopose þe tyme is cum þat I xulde sendeth here yf I kepe þe be hest þat I have made. I sopose I have tolde yow wat it was. I pray yow hertely þat ye wol wochesaf to sende me a letter as hastely as ȝe may yf wrytyn be non dysesse to yow and þat ye wollen wochesaf to sende me worde quowe your sor dott. Yf I mythe have hade my wylle I xulde a seyne yow er dystyme. I wolde ȝe wern at hom yf it were your ese and your sor myth ben as wyl lokyth to here as it tys þer ȝe ben now lever dan a new gounne þow it were of scarlette. I pray yow yf your sor be hol and so þat ȝe may indure to ryde wan my fader com to London þat ȝe wol askyn leve and com hom wan þe hors xul be sentte hom a ȝeyn for I hope ȝe xulde be kepte as tenderly herre as ȝe ben at London.

I may non leyser have to do wrytyn half a quarter so meche as I xulde seyn to yow yf I myth speke wyth yow. I xal sende yow a nothyr letter as hastely as I may. I thanke yow þat ȝe wolde wochesaffe to remember my gyrdyl and þat ȝe wolde wryte to me at þis tyme for I sopose þe wrytyng was non esse to yow. All myth god have yow in hys kepyn and sende yow helth. Wretyn at Oxenede in ryth grete hast on Sent Mihyllys Even.

Yourrys M Paston

And then the p.s. on the outside:

My modyr gretit ȝow wel and sendyt ȝow goddys blyssyng and here and sche prayith ȝow and I pray ȝow also þat ȝe be wel dyetyd of mete and dryngke for þat is þe grettest helpe þat ȝe may haue now to your helthe ward. Your sone faryth wel blyssyd be god.

First, date and place. Margaret is writing from Oxnead, the Pastons’ manor house north of Norwich, where she’s staying with her ‘mother’ – that is, her mother-in-law Agnes. The date is St Michael’s Eve. The feast of the Archangel Michael, Michaelmas, is 29 September, so this is 28 September, the day before. Working out the year will be a best estimate, requiring some close textual reading.

I’ll take Margaret’s news one paragraph at a time, but before I start, some vocabulary:

• wost is the past tense of to ‘wit’ or to ‘wot’, meaning to know

• behest means to vow or promise

• nobelys – nobles – were gold coins, each valued at half a mark; a mark was two thirds of a pound (13s 4d), so a noble was one third (6s 8d)

• ȝyth is yet

• sevenyth is ‘sevennight’, meaning a week; ‘this day sevennight’ with the past tense means ‘a week ago today’

• dens is ‘thence’ (this scribe regularly uses ‘d’ for ‘th’ – see dys for ‘this’, dedyr for ‘thither’, dan for ‘than’)

• emme means uncle

• pleyn is play, meaning to amuse or entertain; in this case, ‘to play with their hawks’ must specifically mean to hunt

• one of the possible meanings of take in this period is ‘give’ – so toke here means ‘gave’

• lever is ‘liefer’, meaning ‘rather’, ‘sooner’, ‘better’

• wochesaf – vouchsafe – means to consent or to deign

• scarlet is rich cloth, often (but not necessarily) of a bright red colour

Let’s see what she has to say.

To my right worshipful husband John Paston, dwelling in the Inner Temple at London, in haste

Whatever it is, it’s urgent. By now it would be a shock if anyone were not addressed respectfully as ‘worshipful’; and John is staying at the Inner Temple, one of the London Inns of Court, where he’d previously studied law (and from where his friend Robert Reppes had written to him in 1440, in the letter we read last time).

Right worshipful husband, I recommend me to you, desiring heartily to hear of your welfare; thanking God of your amending of the great disease that you have had. And I thank you for the letter that you sent me, for by my troth my mother and I were not in heart’s ease from the time that we wost of your sickness till we wost verily of your amending. My mother has behested another image of wax of the weight of you to our lady of Walsingham, and she sent four nobles to the four orders of friars at Norwich to pray for you, and I have behested to go on pilgrimages to Walsingham and to Saint Leonard’s for you. By my troth I had never so heavy a season as I had from the time that I wost of your sickness till I wost of your amending, and yet my heart is in no great ease, nor not shall be, till I wot that you be very whole.

The breathless pace of Margaret’s first letter to her husband is here again – but that was propelled by nervous excitement about her first pregnancy. This time, her mind is racing because she’s anxious. John, in London, has been seriously ill.

Margaret and ‘my mother’, John’s mother Agnes, have been deeply frightened – so deeply that they’ve both made significant spiritual offerings in the hope that God might save him from death. Agnes has promised a wax image – which must be huge, if it’s the same weight as John himself, and therefore very expensive – to the famous shrine of the Virgin at Walsingham in north Norfolk; she’s also sent a gold coin to each of the four orders of friars in Norwich to enlist their prayers. Margaret has offered not money but her own time and effort and devotion: she’s vowed to make pilgrimages to the shrine at Walsingham, and to St Leonard’s Priory, a dependent cell of Norwich’s cathedral priory, just outside the city.

The good news is that John is recovering; but Margaret won’t be able to rest until she knows that he’s entirely well again.

She goes on:

Your father and mine was this day sevennight at Beccles for a matter of the prior of Bromholm, and he lay at Geldeston that night, and was there till it was nine of the clock the other day. And I sent thither for a gown, and my mother said that I should none have thence till I had been there again, and so they could none get. My father Garneys sent me word that he should be here the next week, and my uncle [emme] also, and play them here with their hawks, and they should have me home with them. And so, God help me, I shall excuse me of my going thither if I may, for I suppose that I shall readilier have tidings from you here than I should have there.

This is a little harder to follow, but gets easier once we locate ourselves geographically. ‘Your father and mine’ is William Paston, who’s been travelling on legal business for the great priory at Bromholm, which lies just a couple of miles from the manor of Paston on the north Norfolk coast. William has had to ride to Beccles, about thirty miles south, just over the border in Suffolk. Handily, Margaret’s mother and stepfather, Margery and Ralph Garneys, live nearby at their manor of Geldeston, and William has broken his journey by spending a night with them.

Margery – ‘my mother’, meaning Margaret’s actual mother this time – clearly feels it’s been far too long since she saw her daughter. She’s tried holding hostage some of Margaret’s clothes, in the hope that Margaret will visit to retrieve them. Now Margaret’s stepfather and her maternal uncle are planning a hunting trip to Oxnead, and say they’ll take her back to Geldeston with them. But Margaret can think only of John: she doesn’t want to go in case she misses a message from him while she’s away.

The ruins of Bromholm Priory, north Norfolk

I shall send my mother a token that she gave [toke] me, for I suppose the time is come that I should send it her if I keep the behest that I have made. I suppose I have told you what it was. I pray you heartily that you will vouchsafe to send me a letter as hastily as you may if writing be no dis-ease to you, and that you will vouchsafe to send me word how your sore does. If I might have had my will, I should have seen you ere this time. I would you were at home, if it were your ease and your sore might be as well looked to here as it is there you are now, liefer than a new gown, though it were of scarlet. I pray you, if your sore be whole and so that you may endure to ride, when my father comes to London that you will ask leave and come home when the horse shall be sent home again, for I hope you should be kept as tenderly here as you be at London.

Margaret’s being mysterious about the token for which the time has apparently come; it’s a prearranged message for her mother which the two of them will understand, but without having to write anything down or entrust information to a third party. We might be able to guess what she means – but let’s put it aside a little longer to see what else we can learn.

John’s illness has been not only dangerous but painful. He has a sore that needs constant care and makes it difficult for him to ride. But Margaret is desperate to be with him, and I’ve always loved the terms in which she expresses that desperation. She’s still so young; and she would rather have him home, she says, than a new gown, even if it were scarlet – which we can only assume is the best and most desirable of all possible gowns, or at least all possible gowns that Margaret can imagine acquiring. This arranged marriage, it seems, has grown into a love match.

I may no leisure have to do write half a quarter so much as I should say to you if I might speak with you. I shall send you another letter as hastily as I may. I thank you that you would vouchsafe to remember my girdle, and that you would write to me at this time, for I suppose the writing was none ease to you. Almighty God have you in his keeping and send you health. Written at Oxnead in right great haste on St Michael’s Eve.

Yours, M. Paston

Even in his illness, there’s a girdle for John to remember (to buy? or to bring home?), difficult though Margaret knows it is for him even to write – although is there a suggestion of a hint that he really didn’t write enough last time?

Last of all, there’s the note added to the outside of the letter before it’s dispatched, written by a different clerk who spells ‘you’ with a ‘ȝ’ (ȝow) rather than a ‘y’ (yow):

My mother greets you well and sends you God’s blessing and hers, and she prays you, and I pray you also, that you be well dieted of meat and drink, for that is the greatest help that you may have now to your health ward. Your son fares well, blessed be God.

The message of mothers through the ages: are you eating properly? And then – finally – we discover why Margaret is so busy, and what year we might be in, and why her mother might be hoping quite so urgently for a visit, and what the token Margaret is proposing to send her might mean.

Margaret and John’s first baby – the ‘remembrance that maketh me to think upon you both day and night when I would sleep’, as she wrote when she was pregnant – has been born. He’s a healthy boy, who (we know from other evidence) arrived in the spring of 1442, and was christened John, like his father.

I suspect Margery Garneys might therefore have been wanting to see her first grandchild as well as her only daughter. I suspect, too, that the token conveying private news from Margaret to Margery is a message that she is pregnant again. And those two pieces of information together suggest that, in this letter, we’re in the autumn of 1443.

Next time we hear from Margaret, we’ll find out if we were right.

1. Davis no. 126; Gairdner no. 47.