I'm an average peasant in early modern England. How much do I know about the monarchy?

by azgiss

I recognize that this might be a difficult question to answer as there isn't a ton of documentation about the lower classes, but I'm super curious about how much the average peasant knew about the king and royal family in the late medieval/early modern period.

I imagine that the average peasant would have known the names of local gentry and clergy, but I feel like the monarchs/peers would have been extremely remote. Do I know the king's name, or those of his family? When the king died, how long would it take for the news to reach me? Does my level of knowledge/familiarity vary based on peace/wartime, geographic location, or other factors?

I put England in the title because I just finished reading Wolf Hall, but I'd be just as interested in hearing about what the peasants were up to elsewhere!

Thanks!

SomewhatMarigold

Hi /u/azgiss! I’m sorry this is coming a bit late.

I’m going to sidestep the issue of who in early modern England was a peasant, and for how long, and take the question as broadly concerning the lowest in provincial society, those who were excluded from the ‘political classes’ of the regional elite. There’s evidence that across a broad swathe of society the people of early modern England were not only aware of the affairs of their prince, but actively sought out, shared, and passed judgment on all available news.

Monarchs appeared before the common people of at least the more accessible parts of the realm on their royal processions, and even the commonest people of London could expect to be able to see their prince at carefully choreographed royal events.[1] But what about people further afield? Well, the image and character of the prince could be carefully constructed and disseminated throughout England, even in regions far removed from the court itself. Sermons preached obedience to the monarch and attempted to build a personal loyalty amongst the people.[2] Commemorations, anniversaries, and great events relating to the monarch were pronounced through displays of bell-ringing or other celebrations and rituals across the country.[3] For an example of how carefully managed this could be, images of Queen Elizabeth were strictly controlled by her governors: ‘official’ portraits were drawn up and circulated to present the queen in a flattering (and eternally youthful) light, and unofficial depictions were actively sought out and destroyed.[4]

Such displays of devotion were often encouraged or actively ordered by the prince and their governors. Nevertheless, this wasn’t always a one-way street: even such official communications relied on the willingness of people in the localities to cooperate, listen, and disseminate official news of the monarch. Some evidence suggests that on top of these official communications, the common people—including your average peasant—eagerly consumed and disseminated this royal propaganda themselves, a form of agency in a sense. In Elizabeth I’s reign, common people could buy metal medallions featuring a portrait of the queen, or ballads proclaiming loyalty and joy in her gracious rule. These were sold by travelling chapmen and were, interestingly, unofficial: in other words, they were produced and spread on the basis that there was an audience eager to buy them.[5]

These physical forms of communication were (in theory at least) within the early modern regime’s ability to control. More dangerous were informal communication. News, opinion, and rumour, state-sanctioned or seditious, true or false, spread through all levels of society. For the largely illiterate common people of early modern England, this mostly happened by word of mouth, carried by travelling salespeople and messengers and eagerly circulated around a locality.[6] These could cover a huge range of issues, from strange and monstrous happenings, to the price of agricultural produce, to rumours of rebellion and insurrection. Most pertinently to your question, however, they also covered the affairs of monarchs.

According to the Andy Fox, the political elite of early modern England were deeply concerned that the ‘vulgar’ common people were discussing and passing judgment on the great people of state. He quotes one Elizabethan statesmen as complaining in 1599 of those who “at ordinaries and common tables, wheare they have scarce mony to paye for their dynner, enter politique discourses of princes, kingdoms and estates and of counsells and counsellors, censuring everie one according to their owne discontented and malicious humours without regard of religion, conscience or honestie.”[7] The laws against seditious speech were repeatedly strengthened over the 16th century, and the vast majority of those charged under it were ‘commoners’: yeomen and husbandmen, artisans, labourers, and vagrants.[8]