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The Medieval Roots of Colonial Iron Manufacture Technology

Introduction | Medieval Iron | Medieval Blacksmith | Colonial Iron | Colonial Blacksmith | Conclusion

The Blacksmith in Medieval Europe

The importance of the blacksmith in the Middle Ages cannot be overstated. Not only were his individual products invaluable, but also those that complimented the work of other craftsmen. Countless other craftsmen depended upon the blacksmith for the construction of their goods or performance of their craft, however the blacksmith depended on no other to complete his ware. Carpenters required nails, saws and hammers; masons, mallets, picks, wedges and chisels; carters and wagoners, iron axles and parts; millers, iron components of mill machinery; shipbuilders, nails and fittings. The medieval writer Ælfric of the eleventh century illustrated this dependence with a debate between teacher, student and workers:

Teacher:

Ah, monk, you who first addressed me: I've found out that you do indeed have good friends, and very necessary ones. But let me ask you, what are all the rest of them?

Student:

My fellow monks include all sorts of artisans—blacksmiths, goldsmiths, silversmiths, carpenters, and those who work in many other kinds of crafts.

Teacher:

But do you have any wise and learned counselors?

Student:

I certainly do. How else could our fellowship be guided and instructed?

Teacher:

And what do you have to say, oh wise one? Which of all these crafts do you think is the best?

Counselor:

What I say is that God's service is the highest of all these crafts, for as we can read in the Gospel: "First of all, seek out God's kingdom, and His righteousness, and then all other things shall be given to you." [9]

Teacher:

But among all the wordly crafts, which is the best?

Counselor:

Tilling the earth, because the farmer feeds us all.

The smith says:

But where then does the farmer get his plowshare, or his colter-knife, if not from my craft? Where does the fisherman get his fishhooks, or the shoemaker his awl, or the tailor his needle? Doesn't all of it come from my work?

The counselor answers:

Indeed, what you say is true. But we'd all prefer to live with the farmer, smith, than with you. Because he provides us with food and drink. What comes to us from your smithy, except sparks of iron and the noise of beating hammers and puffing bellows?

The carpenter says:

And which of you doesn't make use of my craft—the houses and barrels and boats that I make for all of you?

The smith answers:

Oh, carpenter, why do you say these things, when you know you couldn't make so much as a single hold without my craft?

The counselor says:

Ah, my friends, good workmen all! Let us quickly turn away from these arguments, and have peace and harmony among us, and each of us make use of the other's skills—and make sure we are all at peace with the farmer. And let me give this advice to every workman: let each be diligent in the practice of his own craft, because he who abandons his craft will be abandoned by that craft. No matter who or what you are, whether a priest, or a monk, or a peasant, or a soldier, concern yourself with the task before you and perform it, and be what you are, for it is infinitely harmful, and disgraceful, for a man not to know who and what he is and what he needs to be. [10]

A further testament to the magnitude of the craft, blacksmithing, as well as mining and smelting, was of great enough importance and profusion to warrant the control of the guild system. Around the twelfth century, guilds began to incorporate not only merchants, but significant craftsmen as well. Its primary concerns were to aid fellow members of the guild and their families, and to control production, including quality, working hours, prices, and wages. The guild also set up a hierarchy of apprentices, journeymen and masters, and an educational system to teach the craft. Two period texts illustrate this practice. The first is the record of a standard indenture between apprentice and here, a master fisherman, from which we glean an understanding of the general expectations outlined in a apprenticeship contract:

This indenture made by John Pentreath of Penzance in the country of Cornwall witnesses that John Goffe has put himself to John Pentreath to learn the craft of fishing, and to stay with him as his apprentice until the end of eight years fully complete. Throughout this time, John Goffe shall well and truly serve John Pentreath and Agnes his wife, shall keep their secrets, shall willingly do their lawful and honorable commands, shall do his masters no injury, nor see injury done to them by others, but prevent the same as far as he can, shall not waste his master's goods, nor lend them to any man without his special command.

And John Pentreath and Agnes his wife shall teach John Goffe the craft of fishing in the best way they know, chastising him duly, and finding him food, clothing and shoes as befits an apprentice. And at the end of the term aforesaid, John Goffe shall have of John Pentreath twenty shillings. [11]

The second is the report of an Italian who visited England around 1500:

The want of affection in the English is strongly manifested towards their children; for after having kept them at home till they arrive at the age of seven or nine years at the most, they put them out, both males and females, to hard service in the houses of other people, binding them generally for another seven or nine years. And these are called apprentices, and during that time they perform all the most menial offices; and few are born who are exempted from this fate, for every one, however rich he may be, sends away his children into the houses of others, whilst he, in return, receives those of strangers into his own. [12]

Although recognized by both the guild and the community for the necessity of his craft, the medieval smith was rarely welcome as a neighbor. We find a considerable number of period texts complaining about the blacksmith. In London in 1397, smiths were asked by city officials to relocate because of "the great nuisance, noise, and alarm experienced in divers ways by neighbors around their dwellings." [13] Spurriers, blacksmiths specializing in spur-making, were apparently even less desirable neighbors, reputed to "wander about all day without working," get drunk, and be apt to "blowing up their fires so vigorously" that they blazed "to the great peril of themselves and the whole neighborhood." [14] The neighbors of a London armorer named Stephen atte Fryth even submitted a formal complaint against him in 1377, stating that "the blows of the sledge-hammer when the great pieces of iron…are being wrought into…armor, shake the stone and earthen party walls of the plaintiffs' house so that they are in danger of collapsing, and disturb the rest of the plaintiffs and their servants, day and night, and spoil the wine and ale in their cellar, and the stench of the smoke from the sea-coal used in the forge penetrates their hall and chambers". [15] Another period text in the alliterative style of Piers Plowman colorfully illustrates the great racket that so irritated the smith's neighbors:

"A Complaint Against the Blacksmith"

Swart smutted smiths, smattered with smoke,
Drive me to death with din of their dints;
Such noise on nights ne heard men never.
What with knaven cry and clattering of knocks!
The crooked caitiffs cryen after coal! coal!
And bloweth their bellows till their brain bursteth.
Huf! puf! says the one; haf! paf! says the other;
They spitten and they sprawlen and they spellen many spells.
They gnawen and gnashen and they groan all together,
And holden them hot with their hard hammers.
Of a bull-hide be their barm-fells;
Their shanks be shackled for the fiery flinders;
Heavy hammers they have that are hard to be handled,
Stark strokes they striken on a steely stock,
Lus! bus! las! das! snore they by the row,
Such doleful a dream that the devil it to-drive!
The master loungeth a little and catcheth a less,
Twineth them twain and toucheth a treble,
Tik! tak! hic! hac!, tiket! taket! tyk! tyk!
Lus! bus! las! das!... Christ give them sorrow!
May no man for brenn waters on night have his rest? [16]

In his Sermons, Berthold von Regensburg, a German friar of the mid-thirteenth century, also chastises the smith, among others, and clarifies for us the kind of indiscretion that was common during the period:

The second folk are all such as work with iron tools, goldsmiths, penny-smiths, and other smiths, and carpenters or blacksmiths,… and stonemasons and turners, and all who work with iron…. When they work by the day, they should not stand idle so that they multiply the days at their work. If you labor by the piece, then you should not hurry so that you may be rid of the work as quickly as possible…. You should work it truly, as if it were your own. You, smith, you will shoe a steed with a shoe that is worthless; and the beast may perhaps go scarce a mile before it is broken, and the horse may go lame, or the rider may be taken prisoner or lose his life. You are a devil and an apostate…. [17]

Although he was somewhat disliked by the community, no criticism could diminish the value of the blacksmith's trade, necessary to almost all other trades and abundant in the daily life of all classes.

 

 
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