Awdeley's Fraternitye of Vacabondes, Harman's Caueat, Haben's Sermon, &c

In Short

This collection assembles sixteenth-century pamphlets that serve as both a social study and a cautionary guide to the criminal subcultures of Elizabethan England. Through firsthand observation, the authors categorize a vast array of "rogues," "upright men," and "counterfeit cranks," detailing their specialized languages, social hierarchies, and methods for swindling the unsuspecting. By exposing these "undecent, doleful dealings," the writers aimed to safeguard the public and restore social order. The work remains an essential window into the period’s anxieties, language, and the gritty reality of life on the margins.

The Story

The narrative begins as an urgent alarm raised by authors like John Awdeley and Thomas Harman, who perceive a plague of vagrancy threatening the peace of the realm. They present their findings as a service to the "commonwealth," describing a highly organized fraternity of knaves who traverse the English countryside. These men and women are not merely aimless wanderers; they are professionals who operate under specific, colorful titles like "Abraham men," "hookers," and "bawdy baskets." The authors meticulously detail how these individuals feign injury, craft fake licenses, and invent tragic histories to exploit the charity of farmers and householders.

The central arc of the collection focuses heavily on Thomas Harman’s investigative efforts in Kent. Harman acts as a proto-detective, engaging with the vagabonds who come to his gate. He describes his own successes in stripping away their pretenses—such as forcing a "deaf and dumb" beggar to find his voice or unmasking a "counterfeit crank" named Nicholas Genings. As the text progresses, these encounters reveal the darker, more predatory side of the vagabond life. The reader learns that these figures are not just beggars; they are thieves who use hooks to pluck laundry through windows, pick locks, and rely on "doxes" or female companions to scout homes and secure intelligence.

The collection then shifts to the surreal and the satirical with the inclusion of Parson Haben’s Sermon in Praise of Thieves and Thievery. Captured by thieves, the parson is forced to preach a sermon to his captors from a windswept hill. He ironically compares the lifestyle of the thief to that of Christ—citing their lack of a permanent dwelling, their constant pursuit by the law, and their ultimate, grim destiny on the gallows. It is a haunting, pitch-black piece of oratory that acknowledges the shared, desperate fate of the criminal.

The final portions of the book expand on these themes by incorporating later derivative works, such as The Groundwork of Conny-catching. These sections provide a grim conclusion to the subject, moving from the earlier, almost sociological observation to a more punitive focus on the "caterpillers" of the nation. The arc concludes with extensive lists of slang, revealing the "canting" language used by this secretive society. By the end, the reader is left with a comprehensive, if unsettling, catalog of an entire civilization of outcasts who lived in the shadow of Elizabethan law, constantly adapting their tactics to survive in a society that viewed them as both a moral nuisance and a physical threat.

How It Unfolds

The call to vigilance The authors introduce their mission to expose the "rascal rabblement" of vagabonds, arguing that such knowledge is essential for the protection of honest citizens. They establish the scope of the problem, mapping out the various tiers of criminal society and the specific risks each group poses to the household.

The anatomy of deceit The text shifts into a diagnostic mode, providing detailed descriptions of specific scams, such as the "ring-faller" who tricks simple travelers with fake jewelry. Each category of rogue is presented as a distinct professional, complete with their own unique tools of the trade and preferred methods of solicitation.

The detective at the gate Thomas Harman chronicles his personal confrontations with vagrants at his home, offering a granular look at how he challenges their lies. This section provides a rare, vivid account of the power dynamic between a suspicious gentleman and the street-wise wanderers he catches in the act.

A sermon on the gallows The tone darkens significantly with the forced sermon, which blends religious parody with the grim reality of criminal life. This segment serves as a philosophical bridge, linking the thieves’ daily survival to the inevitability of their public execution.

The lexicon of the underworld The collection closes by documenting the secret language and organizational structures of these groups, providing exhaustive lists of names and slang terms. This final section cements the book's role as a clinical, albeit biased, archive of a hidden, thriving subculture.

The People

Thomas Harman stands as the book’s most vivid figure, a resolute, somewhat self-important gentleman who views himself as a guardian of public morality. He is determined to unmask the "deceivers" who cross his path, using his own resources to trap them and redistribute their ill-gotten gains to the local poor. His adversary is the "counterfeit crank," such as Nicholas Genings, a man who pretends to be epileptic or infirm to illicitly collect money. Genings is the personification of the "deeper dissimulation" Harman fears, a master of performance who constantly reinvents his identity. Then there is the "doxe," or the female companion of the "upright man," who provides both intelligence and labor to the group, often acting as a scout for potential thefts. These figures appear not as fully rounded individuals, but as types—each representing a specific threat to the stability of the sixteenth-century home.

In Its Own Voice

"I haue diuers tymes taken a waye from them their lycences of both sortes, wyth suche money as they haue gathered, and haue confiscated the same to the pouerty nigh adioyninge to me."

Harman explains his practical, hands-on approach to dealing with the vagabonds he catches at his doorstep.

"Thus maye you see that most of all god delighteth in theves. I marvell, therefore, that men can despise your lives, when that you are in all poynts almost like vnto Christe."

Parson Haben delivers his darkly ironic sermon, comparing the itinerant life of the thief to the biblical narrative of suffering and ultimate condemnation.

What It's Really About

At its core, the collection investigates the fragility of social order in an era of rapid transition. It is driven by a profound obsession with categorization and control; the authors believe that if they can name the "knaves" and describe their "guileful dealings," they can effectively neutralize them. The texts grapple with the question of whether poverty is a moral failure or a result of laziness, and they express a deep, underlying fear of the "unknown" wanderer who moves outside the traditional structures of church and state. Ultimately, the book is a study of the tension between the settled, productive citizen and the nomadic, parasitic outlier who refuses to conform.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of crime, linguistic development, or the social history of the English Renaissance will find this a fascinating, if sometimes challenging, primary source. It offers a rare, ground-level perspective on the Elizabethan period, stripped of the romanticism often applied to that era. However, the reader should be prepared for the dense, archaic prose and the authors' deeply unsympathetic attitudes toward their subjects. The language—full of sixteenth-century slang and erratic spelling—can be difficult to parse, and the constant moralizing regarding the "wickedness" of the poor is a product of a time that viewed poverty through a purely punitive lens. Despite these barriers, the book provides an authentic, unfiltered look at a world of grifters, thieves, and the men who sought to police them. It stays with you as a reminder of how little the basic human dynamics of con artistry and social surveillance have changed over the centuries, proving that the figure of the outsider has always been as central to our culture as the citizen who attempts to exclude them.