The Debate of the Carpenter's Tools

Below is the famous late fifteenth century poem depicting the tools of a carpenter engaged in debate. I was determined to find it when i read a blog post by Christopher Schwarz that mentioned this poem in passing as being included in an older book by Roy Underhill. For a helpful introduction to the poem, click here. Below is the brief forward by James Orchard Halliwell from his 1844 edition of the poem, included in the volume Nugae Poetica: Select Pieces of Old English Popular Poetry, Illustrating the Manners and Arts of Fifteenth Century. I think the title of his book is longer than his little blurb on our poem, but here it is for your enjoyment.

Addendum: Since scrolling all the way down for the footnotes is a royal pain, they're included after every relevant page, but i decided to leave the entire list at the bottom, as well.

1 Shype-Ax. Most likely an ax used for chipping or trimming. See MED, “chip-ax.”

3 Clene hose and clene schone. The sense of these lines appears to be “I will earn you food and drink, but you’ll have to work harder to earn yourself clothing.”

6 Thall. “Thou will.” See MED, “thou.”

7 longys the crafte. Crafte may here refer to the profession of carpenters in general, or the local craft guild of carpenters more specifically.

9 Belte. An “allet maul, hammer; also, a bat or club.” See MED, “betel.”

13 Twybyll. A “kind of ax with two cutting edges; formerly used for cutting mor tices”; see OED, “twibill,” 1.

17 Wymbyll. A name applied to several different kinds of boring tools; see OED, “wimble.”

22 twenti pounde. This is an outlandish sum, perhaps double the amount of an ex perienced master carpenter’s yearly wages.


31 Groping-Iren. A chisel or gouge.

43 ale-wyffe. Brewing ale was a common household industry for women.

48 twenti merke. A mark was two-thirds of a pound; since the Whetstone is speaking of yearly wages, this boast seems more plausible.

53 Adys. An adze is an ax-like tool with a curved blade, used for cutting away wood.

77 seven pens drynke. Seven pence, the rough equivalent of a carpenter’s daily wages, would purchase up to seven gallons of ale (depending on its strength), a comic ally extravagant amount.

79 Lyne and the Chalke. Strings coated in chalk are still used by carpenters for drawing lines on wood to be cut.

87 Prykyng Knyfe. MED and OED quote only this line; if not an awl, this tool is likely to be some other instrument for marking wood.

93 Persore. “An awl, a gimlet, an auger”; see MED, “percer(e).” Lines 100–04 sug gest that this is a drill.

106 schyreff of the toune. Sheriffs originally had considerable local authority in admin istering the royal legal system, but by the later Middle Ages, their impor tance had waned. Nevertheless, the job was typically held by minor gentry, and being ap pointed sheriff would be an honor considerably beyond the hopes of carpenters.

107 Skantyllyon. A gauge, used for measuring the depth of mortises (recesses made in wood for joinery).

120 drynke never peny. A penny’s worth of ale might vary between one-third and one gallon.

139 Brode-Ax. Salzman describes this as “made with a chisel edge, beveled only on one side, which enabled it to follow a marked line accurately” (Building in England, p. 342).

145 Twyvete. Uncertain. OED suggests that this is a double-edged axe, via an etymology endorsed by Wilson (“Debate of the Carpenter’s Tools,” p. 406). Salzman argues plausibly that the tool is a mallet (Building in England, p. 344).

162 a knyght. Though late medieval knighthood was a marker of wealth rather than birth, carpenters would have been extremely unlikely to rise to this rank. The Windlass’s disbelief in lines 167–68 is entirely justified.

163 Wyndas-Rewle. A windlass is an axle or roller used for winding or moving.

179 The devyles dyrte. This expression appears in the Towneley Plays, in the Play of the Buffeting, ed. England, p. 233, line 170. The sense of the insult is “something wretched or excremental.”

183 This seven yere. The customary duration of an apprenticeship.

199 Nother the mayster ne the man. I.e., “neither the master nor his apprentices and journeymen.”

221 Draught Nayle. Uncertain. MED and Salzman suggest that this is a punch for countersinking nails (Building in England, p. 345). Wilson argues that the etymol ogy favors the interpretation of the phrase as a nail-drawer (“Debate of the Carpen ter’s Tools,” p. 468).

279 hym that it dud make. See the introduction to this item.

Footnotes and Textual Notes:

Item 16, THE DEBATE OF THE CARPENTER’S TOOLS: FOOTNOTE

1 If he ever thrives, then he bears himself well [Presumably ironic]

Item 16, THE DEBATE OF THE CARPENTER’S TOOLS: EXPLANATORY NOTES

Abbreviations: MED: Middle English Diction ary; OED: The Oxford English Dictionary;

Title No title or incipit. Halliwell, the poem’s first editor, gave the poem this title, which has been favored in subsequent references. The text begins one-quarter down the page of fol. 23r, with no space separating it from the previous item.

1 Shype-Ax. Most likely an ax used for chipping or trimming. See MED, “chip-ax.”

3 Clene hose and clene schone. The sense of these lines appears to be “I will earn you food and drink, but you’ll have to work harder to earn yourself clothing.”

6 Thall. “Thou will.” See MED, “thou.”

7 longys the crafte. Crafte may here refer to the profession of carpenters in general, or the local craft guild of carpenters more specifically.

9 Belte. An “allet maul, hammer; also, a bat or club.” See MED, “betel.”

13 Twybyll. A “kind of ax with two cutting edges; formerly used for cutting mor tices”; see OED, “twibill,” 1.

17 Wymbyll. A name applied to several different kinds of boring tools; see OED, “wimble.”

22 twenti pounde. This is an outlandish sum, perhaps double the amount of an ex perienced master carpenter’s yearly wages.

31 Groping-Iren. A chisel or gouge.

43 ale-wyffe. Brewing ale was a common household industry for women.

48 twenti merke. A mark was two-thirds of a pound; since the Whetstone is speaking of yearly wages, this boast seems more plausible.

53 Adys. An adze is an ax-like tool with a curved blade, used for cutting away wood.

77 seven pens drynke. Seven pence, the rough equivalent of a carpenter’s daily wages, would purchase up to seven gallons of ale (depending on its strength), a comic ally extravagant amount.

79 Lyne and the Chalke. Strings coated in chalk are still used by carpenters for drawing lines on wood to be cut.

87 Prykyng Knyfe. MED and OED quote only this line; if not an awl, this tool is likely to be some other instrument for marking wood.

93 Persore. “An awl, a gimlet, an auger”; see MED, “percer(e).” Lines 100–04 sug gest that this is a drill.

106 schyreff of the toune. Sheriffs originally had considerable local authority in admin istering the royal legal system, but by the later Middle Ages, their impor tance had waned. Nevertheless, the job was typically held by minor gentry, and being ap pointed sheriff would be an honor considerably beyond the hopes of carpenters.

107 Skantyllyon. A gauge, used for measuring the depth of mortises (recesses made in wood for joinery).

120 drynke never peny. A penny’s worth of ale might vary between one-third and one gallon.

139 Brode-Ax. Salzman describes this as “made with a chisel edge, beveled only on one side, which enabled it to follow a marked line accurately” (Building in England, p. 342).

145 Twyvete. Uncertain. OED suggests that this is a double-edged axe, via an etymology endorsed by Wilson (“Debate of the Carpenter’s Tools,” p. 406). Salzman argues plausibly that the tool is a mallet (Building in England, p. 344).

162 a knyght. Though late medieval knighthood was a marker of wealth rather than birth, carpenters would have been extremely unlikely to rise to this rank. The Windlass’s disbelief in lines 167–68 is entirely justified.

163 Wyndas-Rewle. A windlass is an axle or roller used for winding or moving.

179 The devyles dyrte. This expression appears in the Towneley Plays, in the Play of the Buffeting, ed. England, p. 233, line 170. The sense of the insult is “something wretched or excremental.”

183 This seven yere. The customary duration of an apprenticeship.

199 Nother the mayster ne the man. I.e., “neither the master nor his apprentices and journeymen.”

221 Draught Nayle. Uncertain. MED and Salzman suggest that this is a punch for countersinking nails (Building in England, p. 345). Wilson argues that the etymol ogy favors the interpretation of the phrase as a nail-drawer (“Debate of the Carpen ter’s Tools,” p. 468).

279 hym that it dud make. See the introduction to this item.

Item 16, THE DEBATE OF THE CARPENTER’S TOOLS: TEXTUAL NOTES

Abbreviations: see Explanatory Notes

1 MS: Initial T is two lines tall.

4 wheresoever. MS: wherasever.

8 nothyng. MS: nothnyng.

12 clothe and fede. MS: clothe fede.

41 dey and nyght. MS: dey nyght.

82 thryve. MS: thryv.

124 hym owght. MS: hy owght.

183 prentys. MS: puntys.

224 mayster. MS: maystys.

237 wyrke not. MS: wyrke no.

245 Groping Iren. MS: iren is added above the rest of the line.

268 off. MS: of.

279 gest. MS: yet. Wilson’s emendation.

Shocking Shaker (pegboard) Organisational Skills

My old pine bed has been taking up space in my flat ever since i decided to save it in order 'to make something with the material'. I finally settled on putting it to use in order to get the place organised. So i started with a small part to organise some tools. The holes were already in the wall, so it was a matter of sizing and aligning the holes to the wall. It was particularly exciting, because i got much use out of my Ryoba saw.  It's basically a Japanese 2-in-1 saw. There is no spine, so the depth of cut is not limited, and they are very flexible and can be used for flush-cutting. They work on the pull and make fantastically fine cuts. Anyway, the idea for that little project was obviously inspired by Chris Schwarz's workshop (i am sure this is a common practise--though i didn't put mine over a window--but my exposure was through Schwarz).   

I still had many pieces left, and decided to do a modern version of a Shaker Pegboard, pictured at right. Instead of wooden dowels, i used some pegs from Ikea.  Now my fashionable drug bag has a place of its very own! Actually, i could probably fill that thing up with all the drug bags my father has given to me over the years...

If you look at the photo of the Shaker pegboard, you may notice that there is a chair hanging from the rail (you'll have to ask the people at Fine Woodworking about the clock). Anyway, the Shaker practicality has been an inspiration to people dwelling in small spaces, and featured in Apartment Therapy last month--they came up with some pretty cool design ideas. I live alone and having 8 folding chairs gets in my way when i weekly indulge in my stereotypical Dutch practise of scrubbing the floor. 

So, taking a leaf out of the Shakers' book, i decided that the best way to get the chairs out of my way was to hang them up. To the left is a shot of four chairs hanging by the front door. There is an additional rack that holds two, elsewhere. 

 Not being sure of the stability 

of the metal brackets under the weight of the chairs, nor of the length of the brackets to prevent the chairs from slipping off, i required a fairly simple solution from the hardware store--these mini brackets with cute little nuts and bolts. Now i don't have to worry about a chair slipping and clunking someone in the head!

One final thing--and perhaps an appeal to anyone out there who can explain this mystery to me: Whenever drilling into a wall, i am always super-cautious to avoid electrical paths. So, you can imagine my shock (pardon the expression) when after placing all my dibbels to anchor the screws, and upon completion of mounting the board to the wall, i received a tingling sensation from touching one of the metal brackets! First i thought i had a weird nerve thing going on so i touched it again (brilliant, i know), and, being assured it was not my imagination as indicated by both the intense pain in my left arm and my tester, i decided to remove the screw attached to that bracket. As it became unscrewed, it stopped conducting electricity, but i felt more comfortable taking it out. I still don't get what happened, though. Maybe the screw went deeper than the dibbel and hit the electric supply?

 

 

C.S. Lewis on Good Works and Good Work

I recently came across the passage below by CS Lewis in The Joyful Christian (it's a book full of snippets; by clicking on the title of this entry you will be directed to the whole piece) and i found it interesting that he lists cabinetmakers amongst the last bastions of craftsmanship. He even goes into (some) details, when describing 'real honest-to-God work': 'sound structures; seasoned wood, accurately dovetailed, the stresses all calculated; skill and labour successfully used to do what is intended...'

This piece also resonated with me particularly in light of the discussions on a previous post about the religious community's role in environmentalism. Lewis proclaims, 'Let choirs sing well or not at all', reminding us that focussing on the 'real' thing is no excuse for doing things half-assed. Anyway, here is the piece:

'Good Works' in the plural is an expression much more familiar to modern Christendom than 'good work.' Good works are chiefly almsgiving or 'helping' in the parish. They are quite separate from one's 'work.' And good works need not be good work, as anyone can see by inspecting some of the objects made to be sold at bazaars for charitable purposes. This is not according to our example. When our Lord provided a poor wedding party with an extra glass of wine all around, he was doing good works. But also good work; it was a wine really worth drinking. Nor is the neglect of goodness in our 'work,' our job, according to precept. The apostle says everyone must not only work but work to produce what is 'good.'

The idea of Good Work is not quite extinct among us, though it is not, I fear, especially characteristic of religious people. I have found it among cabinetmakers, cobblers, and sailors. It is no use at all trying to impress sailors with a new liner because she is the biggest or costliest ship afloat. They look for what they call her 'lines': they predict how she will behave in a heavy sea. Artists also talk of Good Work; but decreasingly. They begin to prefer words like 'significant,' 'important', 'contemporary,' or 'daring.' These are not, to my mind, good symptoms.

But the great mass of men in all fully industrialised societies are the victims of a situation which almost excludes the idea of Good Work from the outset. 'Built-in obsolescence' becomes an economic necessity. Unless an article is so made that it will go to pieces in a year or two and thus have to be replaced, you will not get a sufficient turnover. A hundred years ago, when a man got married, he had built for him (if he were rich enough) a carriage in which he expected to drive for the rest of his life. He now buys a car which he expects to sell again in two years. Work nowadays must not be good.

For the wearer, zip fasteners have this advantage over buttons: that, while they last, they will save him an infinitesimal amount of time and trouble. For the producer, they have a much more solid merit; they don't remain in working order long. Bad work is the desideratum.

We must avoid taking a glibly moral view of this situation. It is not solely the result of original or actual sin. It has stolen upon us, unforeseen and unintended. The degraded commercialism of our minds is quite as much its result as its cause. Nor can it, in my opinion, be cured by purely moral efforts.

I guess when you think about it, the precedent for Good Works is in the first chapter of Genesis:

וַיַּרְא אֱלֹהִים, כִּי-טוֹב--and God saw that it was good.'

Ricky Gervais expounds on Good Work in Genesis:

Moxon, Nicholas Owen, and the Gunpowder Plot

Every once in a while, i look for tenuous links between my research on Early Modern England and traditional woodworking. Naturally, i was so stoked to see Christopher Schwarz's work on Moxon, as well as his edition of the section on joinery. Other bloggers have written about Moxon, and Schwarz seems to have have ignited the woodworking world with enthusiasm for craftsmanship in early modern England. Seriously--by no means an easy or common achievement. Let me back up here. For those of you used to scouring EEBO, Moxon should be a familiar name in his capacity as a printer. Ring any bells? How about the Royal society? He was the first tradesmen to be allowed membership (in 1678).

Recently, i came across this cool book. It's quite helpful in understanding the religious environment in early modern England. I'm not up to the Gunpowder Plot yet. Elizabeth has just died, and so have many, many, English Jesuit priests who came over from their seminary in Spain to save English Catholic souls. Pretty sad. But, there is a pretty cool angle that Hogge goes into (thankfully, with photos!), and that is the hiding places for the priests. It's pretty mind-boggling that the deadly cat-and-mouse game between the pursuivants and the Jesuits, in fact the outcome of the religious power struggle in early modern England (perhaps one of the most important historical turning points) was heavily dependent on a dude called Nicholas Owen, a joiner from Oxford.

He was instrumental in creating 'priest holes' in country homes of wealthy Catholics. These were so good, they couldn't be detected by knocking on walls, etc. Father Henry Garnet (head of the Jesuit mission) employed Owen, who was so dedicated to his craft and its importance, that even servants of the households had no idea where the hiding places were! In fact, Hogge provides photographs of a priest hole that was discovered accidentally in 1879 by boys who were playing in a derelict country home. Who knows how many more priest holes the masterful and discreet Owen created which have yet to be uncovered?! Not a job i would mind having!

Sadly, Owen was captured and tortured, and like many other Jesuits, this layman gave no information before dying on the rack. In 1970, Owen was canonised as one of the 40 Martyrs of England and Wales, and his feast day is actually a week from today--16th of March. {Confusingly, it's also listed as the 25th of October (i guess it's a communal feast day for the other 39), and 2nd of March (the day he died).} Well, whenever it is, to students of early modern England and traditional woodworking, happy (bittersweet?) St. Owen's day...