The story of Coventry

by Mary Dormer Harris

THE SWORD
THE CITY MACE

Distinguished on great occasions by his official dress, he was surrounded by an atmosphere of form and ceremony, which no doubt had its effect on the outside world. When the mayor went to mass every morning at "seven of the clock" the sword-bearer and officers attended him. A like procession was formed on the way back, for though the underlings might go about their business during service, they were commanded to "hearken" the time of the mayor's coming out of church so as to be ready to accompany him homewards.[166] So sensible were these worthy men of the dignity of their position, that questions of precedence were ever considered of great moment. When Harry Boteler, the recorder, fell into disgrace in 1484 by magnifying his office at the mayor's expense, the council thought it a due punishment that he should yield his place to the master of the Trinity guild, who thenceforth went by the mayor's side in all municipal processions,[167] an order afterwards rescinded probably to gratify one of Boteler's successors; the mayor from that time walked alone, the master and recorder together.[168]

The labours of the town officials were greatly increased by the all-embracing character of the local legislation. The people of the Middle Ages believed devoutly in the efficacy of the law, and many matters concerning prices, wages, and the like, now known to regulate themselves according to supply and demand, were at times the subject of an infinite amount of often fruitless law-making. Nothing could check the zeal and energy of the local law-givers; no subject was too difficult for them to grapple with, none beneath their consideration. The worshipful men might reverse the whole organisation of the crafts connected with the iron industry at one leet sitting,[169] or, on the other hand, turn their attention to the local supply of halfpenny pies, or the amount of wheat put by the families of the two parishes into the holy cake, or blessed bread, distributed to the congregation. No doubt it was impossible to enforce all these regulations. All the energy of the leet, or council, and the vigilance of the town officers often failed to do away with a long-standing abuse. It was forbidden, under penalty of £10, to throw refuse into the Sherbourne; yet though "great diligence" was made to learn who the offenders were, it did not hinder the commission of the offence.[170] And although, according to the decrees of leet and council, people were compelled to be cleanly, honest and peaceable, I make no doubt that ducks[171] and swine still appeared in the streets,[172] bakers' loaves fell short of the proper weight,[173] and men of craft bore arms in the city, and wounded each other in quarrel.[174] In short, many regulations were mere paper regulations to the end of the chapter.

The mayor and his colleagues had no light work before them on taking office. Numberless details of municipal business went far to fill their days with employment. In addition to his judicial duties, a mayor examined, either in person or by deputy, a great part of the household stuff which came into the city to be sold. He must needs have some acquaintance with matters military, when a threat of invasion or civil war turned him into a captain, and the citizens under him into soldiers, such as they appeared at the half-yearly muster, each armed with such weapons as suited his degree.[175] While, in order to acquit himself with credit in the difficult and delicate relations wherein the citizens were frequently involved with the outside world of politics, a mediæval mayor must gather all the information he could upon affairs of state.

THE OLD STATE CHAIR

The bailiffs, with their work of court-holding, ferm-paying, and fine-collecting;[176] the chamberlains, who overlooked the common pastures, and put the murage money to its proper use;[177] the wardens, who supervised town property and made payment of sundry expenses, delivering up their accounts for the annual audit, were all deeply immersed in business. And the keeping of these accounts was no easy matter, so great a variety of items was included therein, and so frequent were the demands upon the public purse. Now the wardens would be called upon to entertain and reward the bearward of a neighbouring nobleman, or the groups of strolling players who set up their booth in the inn-yard or market-place; or, again, to contribute to the maintenance of the knights of the shire,[178] or lay down the ten pounds, which the mayor took as the "fee of the cloak";[179] now to defray the cost of a civic banquet, or that of the mayor's new fur cap, keeping in the latter case, the "olde stuffe" for the use of the town.[180] Surely much of the activity of the House of Commons under Edward III. and the House of Lancaster is in the main due to the training many of its members received at home in the local guild-hall or council-house.

A great part of the municipal business in the Middle Ages was carried on by bodies consisting of twenty-four men, a double jury, a number occurring in London as early as 1205-6,[181] in Leicester in 1225,[182] and rather later in Norwich.[183] In Coventry in the fifteenth century twenty-four late officials, frequently including the justices of the peace, brought together by some indirect process of which we have lost the secret, elected the officers for the ensuing year. The same number, and to all intents and purposes the same men, were the jurats of the leet. A council of twenty-four, chosen by the mayor and perhaps identical with the jury of the leet, examined petitions four days before the two great assemblies of this court, in order, it seems, to discuss and decide on their rejection or acceptance by the jury of the leet. Moreover, twenty-four nominees of the mayor reinforced the electoral jury of twenty-four to form the mayor's council of forty-eight.[184] In practice, however, there was no rigid adherence to these numbers; small executive or deliberative bodies frequently met, and on occasions when it was deemed necessary large "halls" or assemblies of indeterminate numbers were summoned by the mayor to testify to the popular will. This calling together of the community, a relic maybe of immemorial custom,[185] affording in its traces of ward[186] organisation evidence of a form of government older and more popular than the system employed by the town rulers in the fifteenth century, reveals a lack of any well-thought-out scheme to ensure the election of representatives. Hence it seems to have been of little avail for purposes of popular control. The members were summoned at the requisition of the mayor, and were frequently to a great extent members of the official class. Hence in the cases of which we have record they did nothing but set the seal of approval to the official policy. Thus in 1384[187] the mayor summoned four or six out of every ward to learn what the common wish was concerning the Podycroft and other common lands, which the Trinity guild kept in severalty in return for the annual ferm of £10 paid to the prior on behalf of the corporation, the assembly was in favour of the continuance of the old arrangement, though it was avowedly a most unpopular one. And no orders of leet availed to check the open discontent of the common folk, who certainly did not feel themselves in any way bound by this assembly. The guild constantly found that their fences were broken down, and their fields overrun by the people at Lammas; and in 1414[188] it was thought necessary to decree that people trespassing (delinquentes) in the enclosures should be arrested, and imprisoned until they had made sufficient amends "by view of the guild master and six of the guild brethren."