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were always a restless class, and it was chiefly from them that the trou-
blesome, rebellious medieval crowd was drawn. They were, along with
the unskilled and footloose, the underclass. This is the social background
of the stories of the apprentice who married his master’s daughter, rose
in the social scale, and joined the elite of the town. Few could ever have
done so well for themselves, for the master in an average lifetime would
have trained far more apprentices than could ever have married his
daughter and inherited his shop.
The craftsman class thus graded downward into that of workers, some
of them skilled, most of them not, who accepted what work they could
and lived on the margin of subsistence. They, if they were fortunate,
served a master but had no hope of ever becoming more than a wage
earner. Otherwise, they swept the streets, cleaned the sewers, manhan-
dled the merchandise, or stood around waiting for the next remunerative
job to turn up. They were les classes dangereuses—“the dangerous
classes”—of medieval society. They fed the criminal class, and we en-
counter them in urban revolts and in the proceedings of the criminal
courts.
Urban society consisted, therefore, not of three neatly bounded classes,
but of a continuum, which reached from the richest merchant to the
poorest of the unskilled. This fragmentation of society had emerged
slowly and was in a state of constant change. There was a degree of so-
cial mobility, though this is difficult to measure and, through the tales of
successful apprentices, has certainly been exaggerated. There was a kind
of hierarchy into which people fresh from the countryside were con-
stantly being fed at the bottom, some making their way a short distance
up the steep slope of the social pyramid, few reaching its summit. But
there were those who did. The English story of Dick Wittington, the poor
country boy who made his way to London accompanied by his remark-
ably talented cat and there rose to fame, fortune, and the lord-mayoralty
of London, is firmly entrenched in popular folklore and also has a firm
foundation in fact. Such cases were rare, but nevertheless sufficiently nu-
merous to raise the hopes of a poor country lad.
The sex ratio in the medieval town is far from clear, but there would
appear to have been a surplus of men, if only because men were more
likely to abandon the country and make for the city. The city held less
attraction for women. There were fewer occupations in which they could
find employment, and within the city, if they could not find refuge in