Tudor Jobs were as diverse as they were essential to daily life in 16th-century England. From the cobbled streets of bustling cities to the fields of the countryside, Tudor England offered a wide range of employment opportunities shaped by social class, geography, and evolving technologies. If you found yourself suddenly transported to this vibrant era, would you have the skills to thrive in a bustling marketplace or as a skilled artisan in a workshop? In this blog post, we’ll explore the variety of Tudor jobs available—from blacksmiths and tailors to royal servants and street vendors.
Discover how Tudor society’s workforce kept everything running smoothly, from agriculture to the arts, and how their roles laid the foundation for modern industries. Whether you were working in a guild, tending livestock, or navigating the Thames, Tudor jobs offered a window into the complexities of an ever-changing world.
Transcript of Tudor Jobs: How People Made a Living in the 1500s
We are going to talk about employment opportunities in Tudor England. So if you went through a time warp and found yourself in Tudor England magically, what would your job opportunities be? Would you have the skills to get a job? And what sorts of jobs even were there? That is what we are going to talk about today.
Picture yourself stepping onto a cobblestone street. In 16th-century London, the air is alive with a hundred different scents. Roasting meats from a nearby cook shop, the tang of the river water, and the faint whiff of horse manure. Actually, I grew up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and the smell of horse manure makes me feel like springtime because it smelled like a horse manure.
In spring, I still, get a whiff of it. It’s may, it’s quite funny. Anyway, moving on. Street vendors cry out for your attention, selling everything from fresh pies to ribbons and lace. While watermen along the Thames jostle for passengers, calling out raucous voices to anyone who will hop into their boats. Imagine the swirl of color and noise, the hustle and bustle of a city that never seems to sleep, even if it does slow down a little bit after sundown.
Now, ask yourself, if you were suddenly dropped into this thriving, slightly chaotic Tudor world, what on earth would you do for a living? Many of the jobs we rely on today from software developers to marketing consultants to podcasters, obviously didn’t exist.
Meanwhile, plenty of Tudor-era trades have vanished or evolved beyond recognition. It is a stark reminder that work, whether it’s shaping metal at the forge or ferrying passengers along a muddy river, shifts as society does.
So in this episode, we will talk about some of the many occupations that powered Tudor England and kept daily life humming. We’ll see how social class, geography, and even religion determined one’s professional path. Rural farm laborers versus city traders, men’s guild roles versus women’s hidden labor, and so much more. We’ll talk about traditional trades and the more bizarre forms of employment. Looking at how vibrant and varied Tudor working life could be.
So let’s go on a journey through busy streets, roaring fires, and salty river breezes. As we step into the shoes of those who kept Tudor England running. In Tudor England, one’s place in the social pecking order dictated the kind of work or lack of it that you could do.
Noblemen weren’t exactly rolling up their sleeves in a workshop, but they might serve as royal counselors or oversee vast estates managing tenants through stewards. Below the nobility, you would find the gentry, wealthy landowners who might invest in trade or hold minor offices. Merchants plying their wares in a bustling town and yeoman farmers who owned and worked their own land. At the bottom of the hierarchy were laborers and servants seeking out a living wherever they could find a wage or a warm hearth.
If we travel to a city like London, the range of specialized jobs expands dramatically. Narrow streets would echo with the clang of blacksmiths, the hum of silk, women spinning thread, and the chatter of apprentices.
In various workshops, guilds ran the show here. Associations of tradespeople who set standards for quality, regulated prices, and even offered social benefits to their members.
Meanwhile, out in the countryside, things followed the rhythm of the seasons. Families rose before dawn to tend livestock, plant and harvest crops, gather wild food when available. Futile remnants still lingered in some places with tenants owing labor or rent to their local lord. Gleaning leftover grain from harvested fields was a right for the poor, offering just enough to fill the family pot.
Within the urban trades, belonging to a guild was a badge of honor and a serious commitment. These organizations worked like a cross between a modern professional association and a fraternal order. Often holding lavish feasts for members while zealously guarding trade secrets and controlling who could practice each craft.
For many aspiring workers, the path to mastery started young as an apprentice. Living under a master’s roof, apprentices spent years learning every detail of their trade from selecting materials to honing techniques.
Once they proved their worth and their skill by completing a masterpiece, they graduated to journeyman status, free to earn wages and with luck eventually open up a workshop of their own.
Picture the typical Tudor village or bustling city street and you’ll notice how the handiwork of skilled tradesmen formed the very backbone of everyday life. Carpenters built the sturdy timber framed houses, blacksmiths, forged everything from nails to sword hilt, cobblers labored by candlelight to stitch together shoes and boots.
Every practical objects, doors, barrels, spoons, had a humble craftsman behind it. Their work shaped daily routines. The door you knocked on, the shoes you walked in, the bread you baked in the oven. If you ever needed a custom object made or repaired, these artisans were the first folks you’d call in.
Take blacksmiths, for instance. It’s easy to forget just how vital they were. Need a plow fix so you can feed your family? Off to the forge you go. Got a horse that’s losing a shoe on those rough roads? The blacksmith is your friend.
The workshops became social hubs too. Neighbors popped by to get their tools sharpened or have a quick chat. You could often smell the blacksmiths forge before you saw it, thanks to the heady mix of coal, smoke and hot metal. Sparks flew, bellowed hiss, and the steady clang of the hammer provided a soundtrack to Tudor life.
Then there were tailors and weavers who brought fashion and function together in a swirl of thread. At the high end, they catered to the aristocracy, creating sumptuous garments, dripping with embroidery and expensive dyes. At the lower end, they turned out simpler outfits of wool or linen for common people.
Fabric was a precious commodity. It’s one of the reasons we don’t really have any kinds of dresses from the Tudor period. The cloth was generally going to be reused. Like the piece that we finally did find just a couple of years ago of Elizabeth I that was repurposed into an altar cloth.
Anyway, many laborers owned just a couple of sets of clothes in their entire lifetime. So tailors and weavers were highly valued for both their skill and their efficiency. England’s booming wool trade tied these crafts firmly to the national economy.
Of course, you couldn’t get through the day without bakers and brewers. Bread was the cornerstone of nearly every meal, fresh loaves if you were lucky or something a bit hard if the budget was tight. In towns, professional bakers supplied the masses, churning out bread in quantities too large for most home ovens.
Meanwhile brewing was vital since especially in cities, ale and beer were probably safer to drink than water. Not so much in the countryside, but in the city that’s probably the case. Small scale brewing frequently fell to women known as alewives, who produced frothy ales in their own kitchens or backyard sheds.
Lastly, you had metal workers in precious metal goldsmiths and silversmiths who shown quite literally at the top of the trade hierarchy. They crafted ornate jewelry, gilded chalice, and fine silver tableware for the upper classes. Their knowledge of precious metals also turned them into informal bankers lending money with trinkets as collateral. In Tudor England, mastering gold or silver didn’t just make you wealthy. It made you indispensable.
If most people in Tudor England weren’t bustling about in a crowded city, they were out in the countryside, where life and work revolved around the land. Farm laborers made up the majority of the rural workforce, rising at dawn to plow fields, sow seeds, or herd livestock.
Every season brought its own to-do list, spring for planting, summer for weeding and tending, autumn for the harvest and winter. For things like mending fences or storing provisions, a successful harvest could mean a comfortable winter. A failed one could spell real hardship.
On grander estates, you’d often find a steward who is keeping everything together. Acting as a bridge between the landowner who might be off in London or attending court, and the tenants who farmed the fields. The steward was a vital cog in the machine, part manager, part accountant, and occasionally part diplomat.
They collected rents, made sure laborers did their jobs, and resolved any disputes. Given the responsibilities of this role, the steward usually boasted a good education and a knack for keeping order on hectic estate grounds.
Not to be overlooked, were shepherds guarding flocks of sheep that formed the backbone of England’s famous wool trade. Sheep provided wool for clothing, meat for the table, and lanolin for various household uses. A good shepherd had to be vigilant, braving weather in all seasons and protecting the flock from predators, disease, or even the occasional opportunistic thief.
Then there were the hedgers, ditchers, and other rural specialists who kept fields well drained and fenced. They constructed hedge rows to mark boundaries and shelter crops from the wind or dug ditches to channel water away and prevent flooding.
It was not glamorous work, but without these behind-the-scenes tasks, the Tudor countryside and its vital agricultural output would have fallen into disarray for many Londoners in the Tudor period.
The river Thames was not just a picturesque, a backdrop, it was a lifeline. The roads of the time could be narrow, muddy, and clogged with traffic, human and animal alike. So traveling by water was often the quickest and sometimes even the safest way to get around. Barges, ferries and small skiffs zigzagged across the river at all hours, carrying everything from fresh produce to eager passengers on their daily business.
The Thames effectively functioned as a liquid highway winding its way through a city that depended on it for trade, travel, and food. One of the most distinctive sites along the river was the waterman, the Tudor equivalent of a taxi driver, huddled near the docks. They would call out to pedestrians on the banks, advertising a swift ride across to the opposite shore, or further upstream.
Whether you were a busy merchant hoping to reach your warehouse before nightfall, or a minor noble keen on avoiding the city’s crowded streets, a waterman’s boat was the perfect solution. Official regulations by the company of watermen and lightermen would become more structured in later years. But even in the Tudor times, these rivermen had to observe certain rules.
Though informal negotiations for price and priority were part of the daily hustle, fierce rivalries existed among watermen jockeying for fares, and a few were known for their colorful personalities as much as their rowing skill.
Fishermen also relied heavily on these waterways with religious observances dictating fish days. Demand for seafood was high. Eel, herring, cod, and pike were mainstays of the diet, caught in both the Thames and along coastal waters. But fishing wasn’t without peril. Foul weather could capsize a small boat and overfishing or pollution, yes, even in Tudor times, could deplete the once abundant stocks.
These conditions meant that fishermen had to be adaptable, steering their vessels to the best spots, and sometimes traveling far afield in search of a hardy catch alongside passenger ferries and fishing boats. You might spy barges, hauling loads of coal, grain, or building materials.
The men who operated these, lightermen and bargeman provided an essential service, transporting bulk goods in a city, hungry for resources. It was physically taxing work. Demanding both muscle and a fair bit of nautical savvy to handle the Thames shifting tides and currents extending out to the broader maritime world.
The Tudor period saw a surge in shipbuilding and naval power. Especially as Henry VIII started to build the Navy, craftsmen found jobs as shipwrights and sailmakers. Rope-walkers twisted miles of rope for rigging, and sailors ventured further than ever before, seeking trade opportunities or engaging in naval skirmishes. The river in this way served as a gateway to the seas and the world beyond.
If you would step into any of the grand halls of the Tudor noble households that you see along the banks of the Thames or out in the country, you’ll find a sprawling staff tending to every imaginable detail. At the top, you might see the steward or the chamberlain responsible for everything from running the state’s accounts to organizing banquets for visiting dignitaries.
Beneath them in the hierarchy are the cooks who oversaw entire kitchens of assistants. Scullions for washing and prepping endless piles of pots, maids for cleaning and serving, and a host of other positions.
Each role was very rigidly defined. Even a single misstep might earn a reprimand from your superior who was in turn beholden to someone higher. Still working as a servant meant long hours starting before sunrise, and often ending only when the household masters retired for the night.
Discipline could be strict. Some masters believed a few stinging slaps or public scolding kept everyone in line, but not all households were quite so stern. A fortunate servant might land a post in a more benevolent family where steady meals and a clean corner of the servant’s quarters were considered perks worth striving for.
Compared to the uncertain life of an agricultural laborer, service in a large household could offer a more dependable paycheck and a chance to eat better food. Many of these roles were filled by women who worked as maids, laundresses, cooks, or even wet nurses.
For the children of the household, their labor was often unseen and taken for granted. Yet it was also vital in keeping the domestic machine humming. Despite the day-to-day grind, there could be a faint glimmer of upward mobility.
A kitchen boy with a knack for organization might eventually become a butler. A maid could catch the eye of a wealthy widow who needed a trusted companion. References, moral conduct, and personal reputation were paramount. One scandal or false accusation could swiftly derail a servant’s entire future.
But for many in Tudor England, domestic service offered stability, social connections, and if in luck, held a path to something more. If you venture into the winding streets of Tudor England’s towns, you’d likely bump shoulders with a colorful cast of characters hustling to earn their daily bread.
Market sellers and hawkers crowded public squares, calling out to passersby to sample their wares, fresh fruit, steaming pies, or perhaps a cone of roasted chestnuts. Local authorities tried their best to keep these street markets orderly, requiring licenses to sell and inspecting goods to discourage the sale of spoiled produce. At best, these measures maintain some semblance of quality control. At worst, it led to endless arguments and accusations between vendors trying to guard their turf.
Then there were the workers in the less than glamorous but absolutely necessary industries, chimney sweeps, for example. That was a new job with the rise of the chimney in architecture of the 16th century, houses that were heated by wood in the fireplace needed frequent cleaning or risk chimney fires that could spread quickly through the timber-framed buildings.
Equally vital were the night soil men or gong farmers tasked with emptying cesspits under the cover of darkness. It was a dirty, foul-smelling job. But without these unsung heroes, Tudor cities would’ve drowned in filth and disease. So let’s hear it for the night soil men.
Medicine was still in an embryonic stage, so barbers did more than just trim beards. Tudor barbers, sporting the iconic red and white striped poles, performed tooth extractions, bloodletting, and other minor surgeries—lacking any modern anesthesia or modern hygiene.
Many procedures were excruciating, yet still quite preferable to letting a wound fester. If you needed more specialized care than a barber could provide, you might consult an apothecary or a traveling quack. Though results varied wildly.
Rats were another ever-present hazard, scuttling through the streets and sneaking into food stores. Rat catchers battled these vermin using ferrets, traps, dogs, and a variety of poisons—often at great personal risk. Though it wasn’t a prestigious role, it was critical in a city prone to outbreaks of disease. In an era that didn’t fully understand germs, folks did at least make the connection between rats and illness.
If all that sounds a bit grim, fear not. Entertainers brought a touch of levity—minstrels, jesters, jugglers, and acrobats performed in markets or at fairs, collecting coins from delighted onlookers. They might also find short-term gigs in noble households, livening up mealtimes and celebrations.
And should you need a little rest and refreshment at the end of a long day, tavern keepers and alewives provided exactly that. Alehouses were everywhere, offering home-brewed ales, simple meals, and a place to swap gossip. In some ways, these bustling taverns functioned as the Tudor versions of social media—a hub where travelers and locals alike traded stories and complaints, the occasional scandal fueled, of course, by a hearty mug of ale.
If you fancied rubbing elbows with the bigwigs of Tudor society, the Royal Court was, of course, the place to be, and it offered a whole world of job possibilities for those who had the right connections. The royal household teemed with administrative posts. Secretaries, clerks, and scribes kept daily operations running smoothly, handling everything from official correspondence to record-keeping of funds.
Then, of course, there were the more visible roles: lords-in-waiting, ladies-in-waiting who attended the monarch directly, and pages who served as youthful assistants and personal attendants to cater to every regal whim.
Some positions might seem a bit odd by modern standards, but they were surprisingly prestigious. Take the Groom of the Stool, for instance—an intimately trusted role in which you assisted the monarch in personal toiletry matters. Despite the eyebrow-raising nature of the job, it placed you in the king’s very inner circle, granting an influence most courtiers could only dream of.
Equally glamorous was the office of the Master of the Horse, overseeing the royal stables and the monarch’s travel arrangements—meaning you traveled alongside royalty and shared in their glory.
For those with artistic or musical talent, the Tudor Court was like the golden ticket. Monarchs like Henry and Elizabeth loved a good show, employing everyone from court painters to composers, dancers, and musicians. Court jesters could find favor and a comfortable living by entertaining the king, sometimes enjoying more frankness and leeway with their jokes than anyone else could dare.
The more formal realm of diplomacy and administration offered further routes to courtly employment. Clerks and secretaries kept the wheels of government turning, managing the kingdom’s finances, trade regulations, and political correspondence. Landing these positions, however, was no small feat. Patronage—the Tudor version of “who you know”—was everything.
One of the lesser-told stories of the Tudor workforce belongs to the many women whose labor was often overlooked in official records. Whether they were toiling in the fields at harvest time, churning butter in the dairy, or spinning yarn by the fireside to bring in extra income, women were indispensable to day-to-day life.
Some roles, like midwifery and wet nursing, were reserved exclusively for them, obviously. While these tasks might not have carried the glamorous titles or formal guild recognition of more professional trades, they were vital to the well-being and growth of communities.
Guild participation was another hurdle. Although certain guilds permitted women—particularly if they inherited a father’s or husband’s workshop—most remained male-dominated. Some trades, like silk working, formed female-only guilds, offering a supportive network for women to learn and profit from their skills.
Legally, single women and widows enjoyed more freedom than their married counterparts, who were bound by their husband’s authority. Yet in practice, wives often ran shops and kept accounts while their husbands tended to other matters, making them de facto business managers. Despite these hidden and uncredited contributions, Tudor women formed the bedrock of many a successful enterprise and kept the entire household running like a well-oiled machine.
For many aspiring craftspeople in Tudor England, the journey into trade began in their early teens—sometimes even earlier. Families keen to secure a future for their children would arrange apprenticeships with skilled artisans, often paying a fee or providing some goods in exchange.
The apprentice then lived under the same roof as the master’s family, learning every step of the craft—from fetching water and sweeping floors to eventually handling the more delicate tasks of forging a sword hilt or stitching a fine garment. After these formative years, a newly minted journeyman set out in search of paid work.
Free from the constraints of an apprenticeship, they roamed from town to town, honing their skills and broadening their experience. A journeyman might save enough money or gain the right connections to set up shop one day, but to truly reach the pinnacle, you had to become a master. That meant crafting a masterpiece—an object so impressive it could be judged by respected members of the guild.
Success brought not only a title, but also the right to take on apprentices of your own, ensuring that trade secrets and high-quality standards were kept firmly in the hands of each new generation.
The Tudor period was a time of massive upheaval and reinvention. Henry’s Reformation slammed the door on monastic life, dissolving hundreds of monasteries and thrusting their former inhabitants—scribes, lay brothers, and tenants—into the workforce. Some adapted by finding new clerical roles or venturing into trade, while others struggled to reinvent themselves without the safety net of the Church’s vast lands and resources.
Meanwhile, London’s population soared, fueled by migration from the countryside. With more mouths to feed and bodies to house, entire industries boomed—building, shipping, textiles, and the bustling market trade. Merchant adventurers gained influence, sending ships abroad in search of exotic goods and fresh trading opportunities. These ventures created new jobs not just at sea, but also onshore, where goods had to be stored, sold, and delivered.
In certain cloth-producing regions and burgeoning mining towns, you could glimpse the first flickers of an industrial revolution that would one day reshape all of England. Innovations also sprouted in the world of printing ever since William Caxton had introduced the printing press in the late 15th century. Printers, typesetters, and booksellers all became harbingers of a knowledge revolution that would gradually expand horizons for workers across every trade.
Can you imagine yourself stepping into any of these roles, navigating a teetering boat through the river traffic, or selling apples from a wooden stall in the shadow of towering city gates? While the world has since revolutionized technology, workers’ rights, and sanitation, thankfully, our basic human needs— to eat, to travel, to be entertained—remain surprisingly familiar.
Heather Teysko is the creator, writer, and producer of The Renaissance English History Podcast, the original Tudor history podcast, started in 2009. She's been writing about history online for over 25 years, since her first site on Colonial American history became number one in history on Yahoo in 1998. In 2019 she created Tudorcon, which is now a yearly event, in addition to writing books, and running TudorFair.com - a whimsical Tudor Merch shop.
She has been passionate about Tudor England since she first read Alison Weir's The Six Wives of Henry VIII 30 years ago, and subsequently moved to London after college to spend her time immersed in Tudor history (how exciting when she got to interview Alison for the first time!). In addition to history, she is passionate about travel, and has lived in 3 countries and 4 states (not counting her perpetual state of confusion), and her family (who help her host her YouTube channel occasionally).
