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Discipline has always been important to the Inns, and over the centuries this has led to some strange rules and even stranger events. Old rules have included such things as ‘no fellow… shall stand with his back to the fire’, there were to be ‘no laundresses under the age of forty’ in the members’ chambers in the night and ‘no fellow… [shall] make a rude noise in the Hall at exercises or at meal times’.
In 1598, Middle Temple even laid down rules for chamber pots not to be emptied from the windows, with fines threatened for offenders. Even with the threat of fines, the rules were largely ignored and by 1612, the Inn wired up the windows in the Temple Churchyard to try and combat the problem. It didn’t work and even after Mr Hawkey had his chambers repossessed in 1623 due to his lodgers’ continued failures to obey the rules, the rules continued to be disobeyed. It wasn’t until the mid-1800s (probably with the invention of indoor plumbing), that the issues were resolved.
But the unruly emptying of chamber pots was the least of the conduct the Inns’ Parliaments have had to deal with. It was not uncommon for barristers to get into fights with each other, but one of the most notorious events took place in 1598 when John Davyes, a Master of the Bar, walked calmly through the hall at mealtime all the way to the table where the other Masters of Bar sat. Despite it being against the rules, he was wearing his cap and gown, but no one tried to stop him. When he reached the table, he drew a stick from under his gown and beat one of the Masters over the head until it broke. Then he fled, running out through the hall, into the gardens and into a waiting boat (until the Victorians built the Embankment, the Thames came right up to the garden’s edge). It’s not clear why Davyes bore such a grudge, but the Master survived his beating, and though Davys was initially expelled for his conduct, he was allowed to return after he apologised.
At Lincoln’s Inn, their disciplinary troubles extended to beards, which became something of an obsession for the Inn in Elizabethan times. It started in 1542, when a Member was fined for having a beard. The anti-beard sentiment grew so much that in 1555, the Inn issued an order that barristers must be clean-shaven at all times. Not all the members were keen on this idea, but any who spoke out in defence of the beard were fined. Fortunately, in 1557, the Inn revoked the order so that members were free once more to choose whether to have a beard or not.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was the students who until the 19th century lived in the Inns causing the most trouble. From shooting rabbits in their pens by the kitchens or stealing the ponies of the workmen building the Inns’ gates, to the parties, pranks and even acts of rebellion.
In the early part of the 17th century, the Inn decided to make eating Christmas dinner in the hall voluntary rather than compulsory and informed members they would not be fined for non-attendance. Many students stopped attending, preferring instead to gather separately for dancing, drinking and gambling. The elder members didn’t appreciate this change and, as they have throughout time, conflicts arose between young and old. These came to a head in 1639 when students marched up to the locked hall, their swords drawn and forced open the doors so that they could get to the kitchen and help themselves to the Christmas food. The King, learning of the commotion, requested the Chief Justice step in to restore order and the students obviously decided not to push their luck further and dutifully dispersed.
In 1623, students caused even greater chaos when in the early hours of one morning, having likely spent all night drinking, decided it would be a great idea to sneak into the Tower of London. They ‘borrowed’ four cartloads of small cannons and set them off in the City, waking James I. Having already survived a host of plots on his life, he reacted by screaming ‘treason’, at which point, the whole city was transformed into chaos.
The Inns and the Crown had a special relationship throughout the 16th and 17th centuries. Elizabeth I was a regular visitor to all the Inns at Christmas and when the Great Fire of London threatened Middle and Inner temple, James I himself came down from the palace and helped organise the firefighting efforts. So when James II ascended to the throne on 6 February 1685, it was only natural that the Inns would arrange celebrations in his honour. The celebration at Gray’s Inn would be like the others, with feasting, drinking and bonfires. However, at some point during the night (perhaps after a few too many drinks) one bonfire took on a life of its own, reaching out to the buildings around it. Sir Francis Bacon’s former chambers (today, 1 Gray’s Inn Square) burned down, as did the old library building together with a number of other buildings of the Inn. By the time morning came, all that was left of that part of the Inn was ash and smoke – perhaps a fitting portent for his reign.
It wasn’t just the students who caused trouble. The supernatural was blamed for causing chaos at Field Court (which once stood next to Fulwood’s Rents, Gray’s Inn). The tenants there complained of doors opening and closing by themselves, clocks stopping, plates rattling on the shelves and cabinets tipping over, even though no one was around. One resident even complained that when he woke up in the morning, his bed had moved completely across the room while he slept on it. The tenants were convinced that supernatural forces were at work. Perhaps the building was haunted, or maybe a poltergeist was causing trouble. Months passed and no one could explain the mysterious events. Until the Inn brought in a surveyor: the building was so old, it had started to lean. In the end, the damage was irreparable and the building was demolished.
While historically the focus of those who studied at the Inns may not have been the law (Sir Walter Raleigh was admitted to and studied at Middle Temple, but at his trial for treason proclaimed he had ‘never read a word of law or statutes’), their colourful antics, and indiscretions, have helped to shape the Inns into what they are today.
Discipline has always been important to the Inns, and over the centuries this has led to some strange rules and even stranger events. Old rules have included such things as ‘no fellow… shall stand with his back to the fire’, there were to be ‘no laundresses under the age of forty’ in the members’ chambers in the night and ‘no fellow… [shall] make a rude noise in the Hall at exercises or at meal times’.
In 1598, Middle Temple even laid down rules for chamber pots not to be emptied from the windows, with fines threatened for offenders. Even with the threat of fines, the rules were largely ignored and by 1612, the Inn wired up the windows in the Temple Churchyard to try and combat the problem. It didn’t work and even after Mr Hawkey had his chambers repossessed in 1623 due to his lodgers’ continued failures to obey the rules, the rules continued to be disobeyed. It wasn’t until the mid-1800s (probably with the invention of indoor plumbing), that the issues were resolved.
But the unruly emptying of chamber pots was the least of the conduct the Inns’ Parliaments have had to deal with. It was not uncommon for barristers to get into fights with each other, but one of the most notorious events took place in 1598 when John Davyes, a Master of the Bar, walked calmly through the hall at mealtime all the way to the table where the other Masters of Bar sat. Despite it being against the rules, he was wearing his cap and gown, but no one tried to stop him. When he reached the table, he drew a stick from under his gown and beat one of the Masters over the head until it broke. Then he fled, running out through the hall, into the gardens and into a waiting boat (until the Victorians built the Embankment, the Thames came right up to the garden’s edge). It’s not clear why Davyes bore such a grudge, but the Master survived his beating, and though Davys was initially expelled for his conduct, he was allowed to return after he apologised.
At Lincoln’s Inn, their disciplinary troubles extended to beards, which became something of an obsession for the Inn in Elizabethan times. It started in 1542, when a Member was fined for having a beard. The anti-beard sentiment grew so much that in 1555, the Inn issued an order that barristers must be clean-shaven at all times. Not all the members were keen on this idea, but any who spoke out in defence of the beard were fined. Fortunately, in 1557, the Inn revoked the order so that members were free once more to choose whether to have a beard or not.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was the students who until the 19th century lived in the Inns causing the most trouble. From shooting rabbits in their pens by the kitchens or stealing the ponies of the workmen building the Inns’ gates, to the parties, pranks and even acts of rebellion.
In the early part of the 17th century, the Inn decided to make eating Christmas dinner in the hall voluntary rather than compulsory and informed members they would not be fined for non-attendance. Many students stopped attending, preferring instead to gather separately for dancing, drinking and gambling. The elder members didn’t appreciate this change and, as they have throughout time, conflicts arose between young and old. These came to a head in 1639 when students marched up to the locked hall, their swords drawn and forced open the doors so that they could get to the kitchen and help themselves to the Christmas food. The King, learning of the commotion, requested the Chief Justice step in to restore order and the students obviously decided not to push their luck further and dutifully dispersed.
In 1623, students caused even greater chaos when in the early hours of one morning, having likely spent all night drinking, decided it would be a great idea to sneak into the Tower of London. They ‘borrowed’ four cartloads of small cannons and set them off in the City, waking James I. Having already survived a host of plots on his life, he reacted by screaming ‘treason’, at which point, the whole city was transformed into chaos.
The Inns and the Crown had a special relationship throughout the 16th and 17th centuries. Elizabeth I was a regular visitor to all the Inns at Christmas and when the Great Fire of London threatened Middle and Inner temple, James I himself came down from the palace and helped organise the firefighting efforts. So when James II ascended to the throne on 6 February 1685, it was only natural that the Inns would arrange celebrations in his honour. The celebration at Gray’s Inn would be like the others, with feasting, drinking and bonfires. However, at some point during the night (perhaps after a few too many drinks) one bonfire took on a life of its own, reaching out to the buildings around it. Sir Francis Bacon’s former chambers (today, 1 Gray’s Inn Square) burned down, as did the old library building together with a number of other buildings of the Inn. By the time morning came, all that was left of that part of the Inn was ash and smoke – perhaps a fitting portent for his reign.
It wasn’t just the students who caused trouble. The supernatural was blamed for causing chaos at Field Court (which once stood next to Fulwood’s Rents, Gray’s Inn). The tenants there complained of doors opening and closing by themselves, clocks stopping, plates rattling on the shelves and cabinets tipping over, even though no one was around. One resident even complained that when he woke up in the morning, his bed had moved completely across the room while he slept on it. The tenants were convinced that supernatural forces were at work. Perhaps the building was haunted, or maybe a poltergeist was causing trouble. Months passed and no one could explain the mysterious events. Until the Inn brought in a surveyor: the building was so old, it had started to lean. In the end, the damage was irreparable and the building was demolished.
While historically the focus of those who studied at the Inns may not have been the law (Sir Walter Raleigh was admitted to and studied at Middle Temple, but at his trial for treason proclaimed he had ‘never read a word of law or statutes’), their colourful antics, and indiscretions, have helped to shape the Inns into what they are today.
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