In the upper row of the middle compartment is a figure of Justice enthroned, surrounding which are angels holding in their hands the instruments of the Passion. It is supposed that this incongruity was due to the insertion of the figure of Justice in Puritan times, and authorities differ in their views as to whether the evidently offending and deleted figure was that of the Trinity or Christ. Mr. Scharf, who has made a close study of this particular work, is of the opinion that the remains of the handsome throne and part of a beautiful embroidered mantle which are depicted, may have belonged to a seated figure of Christ clad in flowing robes, often the subject of paintings at that particular period. His argument, which is as follows, indeed seems to be a weighty one. He writes, “had it been a representation of the Trinity with the first Person holding a crucifix, I do not think we should have had the angels with the instruments of the Passion, but rather the four emblems of the Evangelists, as on the canopy of the tomb of the Black Prince at Canterbury, and in various MS. illuminations.”
Whatever may be the true explanation of this inserted and incongruous figure, one cannot feel other than satisfaction that the mutilation of the tapestry, permitted by Puritan fanaticism, did not proceed to greater lengths.
In the hall are a number of royal portraits, including pictures of Charles II. and James II. by Lely, and of George III. and George IV. by Sir Thomas Lawrence; and on the walls are also some Latin inscriptions, including one surmounted by the letters E.R. celebrating Queen Elizabeth, and another commemorating the Black Prince.
Within recent years a new fireproof Muniment Room has been built downstairs, where is kept a most valuable and interesting series of documents. Earliest of these is a charter received from Ranulph, Earl of Chester, in the reign of Henry II. A similar document of Confirmation, granted in the reign of Charles II., has additional interest from the fact that it contains a fine miniature portrait of the King. In addition to more important documents relative to Coventry affairs are many most interesting and unique letters, some of them of a more or less private character. One in particular from Margaret, the mother of Henry VII., calling attention in peremptory language to a former and unanswered letter. There are two communications from Henry VIII., one bearing a written signature and the other stamped with a wooden stamp.
Another exceedingly interesting letter is that received by the Mayor of Coventry in September 1534, dated the 12th of that month, from Ann Boleyn, announcing to him the birth of her daughter Elizabeth, afterwards Queen. There is also one from Elizabeth herself, dated thirty–six years later, relative to the arrival at Coventry of unhappy Mary Queen of Scots.
A strange side light upon the custom of the times is thrown by an indenture dated Warwick, 1478, relating to some jewels which the impecunious Duke of Clarence had pledged to the city. There are other letters from royal personages, including Edward IV., Richard III., Henry VII., James I., Charles II., James II., and from Archbishops Laud and Cranmer, and Richard Baxter. In addition to all these memorials of the past, valuable alike for their historical and antiquarian interest, is a remarkable miscellaneous collection of nearly twenty thousand documents, including deeds of gift, charters, grants, leases, etc., and a set of the trade–marks of Guild members impressed in wax, extending from the reign of Edward I. down to the latter half of the fifteenth century.
At the rear of the Minstrel Gallery is a large room formerly used as the armoury, in which is hung a fine picture, the “Bacchanali,” by Luca Giordano, and at the back of these apartments is another room, traditionally supposed to have been that in which Mary Queen of Scots was confined when at Coventry.
The Mayoress’s parlour possesses a fine moulded ceiling, in two compartments, with diagonal ribs united in an octagonal panel. The fireplace has hollow jambs ornamented with tracery, copied from the banqueting hall of Kenilworth Castle, and is formed by a depressed Tudor arch; and above it is a figure of Godiva on horseback placed in a recess. The elaborately carved state chair of oak undoubtedly dates from the early part of the sixteenth century, and possibly even earlier. On one side is the figure of the Virgin and Child, whilst the other is simply panelled. The back is surmounted on one side by an elephant and castle—the town arms; and on the other side, which formerly was the centre, stand two lions acting as supporters for a coronet or crown, which has disappeared. The chair when perfect was a double one, and was probably made for the use of the Master of the Guild, and the Mayor, when present at its meetings. On the walls are hung some interesting portraits of royalty and of former mayors of the town.
Amongst the other buildings of Coventry worthy of note as representing survivals of ancient architecture is the Bablake Hospital, endowed by one Thomas Bond in 1506. “For”—as it is quaintly phrased—“ten poore men, so long as the world shall endure, with a woman to look to them.” This Thomas Bond was a draper of the city, and also its Mayor, in 1497; when Perkin Warbeck was causing rebellion.