Town Life in the Fifteenth Century, Volume 2

All these financial difficulties were made yet more acute by the character of the municipal wealth. Of the £393 which made up the revenue of the town in 1428,[571] £302 3s. 4d. came from tolls; and the foreign commerce on which such sums were levied had to be maintained amid wars with France, quarrels with Brittany, attacks of Hanseatic and Breton and Genoese and Venetian traders always on the watch to seize ships on any plea of wrong done to their merchants, or in defiance of pirates that swarmed in the Channel, and of smugglers that haunted the coast. Again and again the people make complaint that the foreign merchants that used to bring their goods no longer came, and for lack of tolls to pay the ferm the burgesses had been forced to borrow £400 for their rent, and that many citizens had been driven from the town, and others were going unless something could be done to lighten their burdens.[572]

These were some of the special problems with which Southampton had to deal – perils of war, its consequences of military rule and divided authority within the town, a complicated and difficult finance, a trade at once wealthy and precarious, heavy expenses to be met in good times and in bad, a very poor class living side by side with a very rich one. The form of trouble might vary from year to year, but trouble was always with them. Bargainings, abject petitionings and arbitrary favours, concessions now on this side now on that, stern exactions and lavish gifts, left the town open to endless changes and chances of fortune.[573]

The general conditions, in fact, must have made the growth of popular government practically impossible; and from the beginning the town was probably ruled by a narrow oligarchy. Its first constitution was, perhaps, framed under the influence of a powerful Merchant Guild, such as would naturally be formed in a wealthy commercial centre – a fraternity not unlike the contemporary guild at Lynn or the latter one at Coventry.[574] It seems that in the twelfth century two king’s bailiffs had the care of all the royal property, the collection of the ferm, the gathering in of the king’s debts, and so forth.[575] Meanwhile the Merchant Guild elected its own aldermen, scavins, usher, and other officers, to protect the liberties and customs granted to it by Henry the First and confirmed by Henry the Second and his sons.[576] In 1199 John granted to “the burgesses” to have their town at ferm,[577] and it is probable that the alderman of the guild was charged with the collection and payment of the money, for in the course of the next generation he appears as mayor of the town.[578] Both offices, mayor and alderman, were carried on side by side in his person. He shared the government with the bailiffs, as chief of the town and the guild, bound to maintain the statutes of both, and having the first voice in all elections concerning both. If the bailiffs failed to do justice, he summoned the jurors and judged in their place. He had charge of the common coffer and the keys of the town gates, and kept the assize of bread and of ale.[579] By virtue of his old title and office the mayor was still called alderman in the fourteenth century,[580] and in 1368 he apparently acted at the head of the guild organization with its four scavins.[581]

The peculiar position of an alderman of the guild thus turned into a mayor, is no doubt marked by the fact that he was never, as in other boroughs, the elect of the whole community, nor even of a jury chosen by the people. In the fifteenth century it was admitted that from time immemorial the custom was for the outgoing mayor, in the presence of the bailiffs and burgesses, to nominate two burgesses, and the assembly was forced to elect one of these two, unless they chose to re-elect the mayor himself, which indeed was often done. The system was probably that which the guild had originally adopted for choosing its aldermen, and which went on unchanged under the new circumstances. His place as mayor, indeed, seems to have been an honour slowly and reluctantly conceded,[582] for in 1249, after “Benedict the son of Aaron” had held office (possibly for eleven years) the burgesses obtained a royal patent granting that neither they nor their heirs should ever again have a mayor in Southampton.[583] Twelve years later, however, the list begins again, though in a manner as informal as before, for long after his authority in Southampton was undisputed, the mayor was officially ignored in that capacity at Westminster, and charters from the time of Henry the Second to that of Richard the Second were addressed to “the burgesses.”[584] It was only after a charter of Henry the Fourth, which among other things appointed the mayor and four aldermen as justices of the peace,[585] that the style seems to have changed, and the letters patent of Henry the Fifth are addressed to “the mayor and burgesses.”[586] At last, in 1445, under Henry the Sixth, Southampton was made a perpetual corporation to be known by the name of “mayor, bailiffs, and burgesses,”[587] and this phrase henceforth replaced the old style.[588]

With the group of officials through whom the alderman ruled the guild we have no immediate concern. But when the mayor had taken his oath of office in S. Michael’s Church (perhaps in the north chancel aisle which was called “Corporation Chapel”), he found himself at the head of an administrative body of twelve “discreets” and twelve aldermen of the wards. The aldermen set over the five wards (three of which were ruled by two aldermen, and the remaining two by three, making twelve in all) acted as a kind of police to keep the peace in their respective wards, to enroll the names of all the inhabitants and of their sureties, to take up malefactors, and to make the round every week or fortnight to see that all was in good order;[589] and it is possible that they took part in some work of the mayor’s council in the fourteenth century.[590] The twelve “discreets” were elected every year by the whole community in an appointed place, and like the twelve portmen of Ipswich were sworn to keep the peace, to preserve the town liberties, to do justice to poor and rich, and to be present at every court.[591] They had joint charge with the mayor of the treasure and the common chest of charters and deeds, and no document could be sealed with the common seal unless at least six of them were present. They themselves elected the two bailiffs, the common clerk, and the serjeant of the town.[592] Finally in 1401, two years after the same privilege had been conceded to Nottingham, the charter of Henry IV. gave the discreets power to choose out of their own body four aldermen, who together with the mayor were to be justices of the peace, and were to be aided in their work by four discreet persons chosen by the mayor and community. From this time doubtless the mayor and his four brethren became the chief aldermen of the five wards;[593] and the town council, as in Nottingham, elected some of its members to sit as aldermen in scarlet robes, and some to be plain “discreets” or “burgesses.”[594]

The two charters which finally determined the constitution of Southampton were granted within a year of the similar charters to Nottingham. The first, in 1445, which formed a deed of incorporation under the title of mayor, bailiffs, and burgesses, recognized elections by the official body, a custom which appears in the charter of 1401; while the second made the town into a county, in order to protect the merchants and mariners who were incommoded by the sheriff of the county serving writs on them.[595] In the actual government of the place it does not seem that these charters brought about much change. The mayor still presided over meetings of aldermen and burgesses at the Guildhall in Bargate Tower,[596] or in the Audit House which stood in the middle of the street in the very centre of the fish, poultry, and pig markets; and the whole community might be gathered together for the common business at the discretion of the rulers.[597] Nor did the charter of incorporation alter the old style used in local business. In affairs that concerned the commonalty, whether it was an agreement with some other borough about tolls, or ordinances for the town, or a concord with a neighbour as to the limits of the town’s jurisdiction, or the leasing of the customs by land and sea for a year, or grants of land – in all such matters the ancient custom was to use the name of the “mayor and community”; and even after 1445 the old form “mayor and community” is still retained in all acts that related to public property and the town treasure, all leases, water supply, fines due to the Queen, license to hold a fair, and the like.[598] That the distinction between burgesses and commonalty was a real one in the eyes of the people is proved by the fact that on three great occasions when a solemn consent of the whole town was required, the signature of “the commonalty” or “the whole community” was formally placed alongside of that of the official class – once in the treaty with the Archduke Philip in 1496; once in the treaty with Maximilian as to the marriage of Prince Charles of Spain to Henry’s daughter the Lady Mary; and once again in an important transaction concerning the common lands of the town.[599]

It thus seems probable that administration in Southampton underwent singularly little change from first to last, save the raising of councillors into self-elected aldermen and justices of the peace. Whether the system of close election by the council recognized in the charters of 1401 and 1445 was new, or whether, as is equally probable, the custom was already of old standing, it seems plain that no popular disturbance or protest was excited by these charters. It was not till fifteen years later, in 1460, that the commons rose in open revolt under the leadership of the sheriff and five burgesses, and then the battle raged round the election of the mayor.[600] A hundred or more rioters rushed to the Guildhall, broke in upon the meeting there with drawn daggers and loud cries, and proceeding at once to elect their leader the sheriff as mayor, carried him in triumph on their shoulders, and set him on the mayor’s seat, while another of the ringleaders was appointed in his place as sheriff. But the riot had no great results. The defeated party procured a patent which declared that their old custom of election was to be observed, and a mayor was lawfully chosen by it; but as they were unable to displace the usurper, the quarrel finally ended in a compromise whose only effect was slightly to increase the part taken by the aldermen in elections. By this new system the mayor and aldermen met in the audit house a month before the day of election, and chose four burgesses for nomination; on the day of election they again met and struck two names off the list. The remaining two names were proposed to the burgesses and one of them elected by ballot; the outgoing mayor let it be known which was to be elected, and the ballot was a matter of form. The people put their necks once more under the yoke, and the mayor nominated his successor and handed on to him the traditions of office which he had himself received.[601]

Twenty years later there seems to have been another impotent effort to reform the system of election. At this time all such attempts were watched from the Court with suspicious fear; and Richard the Third wrote to the mayor, bailiffs, and burgesses, pointing out that by their letters patent they had truly the right both to elect municipal officers and to remove them for reasonable cause, and directing them, since “certain indisposed persons are about to trouble and vex you in due execution of the said grant, so to punish the said indisposed persons as shall be the good and fearful example of others, and if they be such persons whom ye may not accordingly punish in that behalf, to certify us thereof to the intent we may provide such a lawful remedy in the same as may accord with your said privileges.”[602]

In these dissensions it does not seem that the popular anger was excited by alleged political usurpations, but simply by corrupt administration, especially perhaps in relation to public money and the common lands. There was certainly financial trouble. In 1459, as we have seen, the auditor’s accounts had fallen short by large sums; and as from of old one of the auditors was appointed by the mayor, and the treasure chest was kept in the mayor’s house and the keys by the mayor and discreets, there was probably ground for suspicion on the part of the people.[603] The remedy, however, was slowly and hardly won, and it was not till 1505 that a very moderate reform was carried out by passing a decree that the mayor’s salary should be paid through the steward by the auditors; “to the intent following that no mayor from this day forward take upon him to receive or handle any of the town’s money, that is, to wit, he shall make no fine except it be at the audit house, calling to him two or three of the aldermen or of the discreets at the least, and the money thereof coming to be put into the Common Box in the said audit house.”[604] In course of time it was also ordered that the common chest should be kept in the guild hall[605] instead of the mayor’s own house.

In the same year, 1459, there was probably some alarm also as to the common lands.[606] The 376 acres of Southampton Common, the various closes, the God’s House Meadow, and the Saltmarsh, were, as we have seen, the special care of the “community”;[607] and a quarrel had been going on for centuries with S. Julian’s Hospital as to a tract of marsh which was claimed by the town as part of its common in spite of all the fences raised by the warden of S. Julian’s to vindicate his claims.[608] In 1459 a new warden perhaps suggested the plan which he carried out a few years later, after the failure of the popular revolt, when he disseised the town in 1466 of a part of the great marsh or common, having bought over the mayor by a grant of some of the land in question to be held of the hospital. Under a later mayor in 1471 the burghers again broke down the fences put up by the hospital,[609] and appealed to the king and council to defend their ancient privileges. “Ancient men” (one aged 104 and more) gave their depositions as to boundaries,[610] and an award was finally made in 1504, followed by the necessary legal settlements, in 1505. A new quarrel arose when the corporation attempted to raise a tax for keeping up the sea-banks or cutting sluices to save the fields from floods; and proposed, if this failed, to enclose and hire out a part of the common land to pay these expenses.[611] The townsmen, on the alert for danger, sent in eager declarations that the poor commons “will be ever ready to withstand all manner of persons with their bodies and goods that would attempt to usurp upon any point or parcel of the liberties and franchises of the town.” They would not hear of letting any part of the common; as to paying any money for sluice, bridge, or cut made by the corporation, “they pray your wisdoms in that matter to assess none of them, for they intend to pay none in no wise”; unless indeed some better and happier times might befall them, “remembering your poor commons are not as yet at a fordele in riches, trusting to God to increase under your masterships.”[612] The period of wealth, however, tarried, and so did the taxes; so a few years later the corporation ordered part of the marsh to be enclosed. Upon this three hundred of the commons, men and women, marched out to the waste, broke down fences and banks, and triumphantly proceeded to the guild hall, making “presumptuously and unlawfully a great shout” to the annoyance of the court within. Flushed with success they next walked two and two in procession with their picks and shovels to the mayor’s house near Holy Rood Church and Cross, and one cried out, “If master mayor have any more work for us we be ready”; after which they went home without doing further harm. Four days later one of the king’s council came down with letters ordering the arrest of the chief offenders, and perpetual banishment was proclaimed against the ringleaders who had fled, while six other men were seized, taken to London, and put in the Marshalsea. The Southampton rioters were struck with terror and repentance. Petitions were got up in every parish for the prisoners; the town promised to restore the banks, and never sin again in like fashion; the corporation sent out a proclamation that all those who had taken part in breaking down the banks should go out to build them up again, and only when this was done was the petition for mercy forwarded to London. Finally, sentence was given by the cardinal and the council that the prisoners should be sent home, and at their coming to Hampton should sit in the open stocks under the pillory, till the mayor and his brethren and the king’s lieutenant walked down the street, when the penitents were to plead for mercy and forgiveness and confess their guilt. All this was done; the mayor, in the name of his brethren, magnanimously, of his great mercy, accepted the apology and promised that no grudge should be borne against them. “And thereupponne [he] commaunded them owt of the stokkes, and hadd them to the audite hous, and bound them by obligacon to be good aberying ageynst the kinges grace and the mayor and his brethryn hereafter, and so delyveryd them.”[613] The municipal dignity was vindicated, though the quarrel was still left to drag on for the next two hundred years.[614]

In spite of irritation over questions of financial fraud and the management of the common lands, however, there seems to have been little political activity in Southampton. The civic life stretches out before us like stagnant waters girt round by immutable barriers. Scarcely a movement disturbs its sluggish surface. The twelve perpetually gather round the mayor and rule the town with a despotic power which hardly suffers change during the centuries from John to Henry the Eighth. Even the modest claim of townsfolk for some closer connexion with their mayor only reveals with what a steady hand the venerable oligarchy maintained its ancient discipline. Against their consecrated order the commons from time to time made a riotous and disorderly protest;[615] but there is no attempt to bring about real constitutional reform. We scarcely hear of the general Assembly; there is no appeal to old traditions of freedom; no talk of a representative council of the commons; no organized resistance of the crafts – possibly because these, however numerous, were too poor and weak (if we may judge from their inability to maintain the walls and towers, even when grouped together) to make head against a very powerful corporation. Mere outbreaks of unorganized and intermittent revolt, which were occasionally kindled by some grave scandal, died away fruitlessly before the steady resistance of the authorities in power, and such paroxysms of transient activity on the part of the people remained without permanent result.

Southampton had, in fact, a peculiar history and a fixed tradition in government, which left its people in a singularly helpless position before authority. The conditions, political and commercial, of its municipal life necessarily gave the expert a supreme place in administration; and it is possible that a compact body of merchants had from the first imposed their methods of government and election on a population who had no voice in the matter. The state of affairs was exactly reflected in the attitude of the mayor, who held a place of singular pre-eminence and might. Far removed from popular criticism or control, as direct minister of the king[616] he conducted a vast mass of business in absolute independence, both of the community and of the guild, not only as being the king’s escheator, the gauger and weigher of goods at the king’s standard, and measurer over the assize of cloth, the mayor of the staple of wool, and mayor of the staple of metals under the king’s orders, but also as the king’s admiral within the town and its liberties, with supreme control of the port and coast from Christ Church Head to the Needles thence to Hill Head at the mouth of Southampton Water, over the port of Cowes and of Portsmouth;[617] and even as a sort of secretary for foreign affairs, for we must remember that nowhere, save in London, was the “foreign” question so big and important. Settlers from France or the Netherlands, such as those in Sandwich or Norwich, who took up their dwelling there and became absorbed in the general body of the townsfolk, formed a very different class from the merchant visitors who flocked to Southampton to look after business interests which extended all over the country, and to a great extent conducted the whole carrying trade of the south; and who, as strangers under the peculiar protection of the king, constituted a foreign colony, ruled by special laws and kept under special supervision.[618] In all these different departments of his government the mayor ruled by other laws than the municipal ordinances; he did not need the municipal seal for his decrees, nor the assent of the community for his acts; and the great departments in which his actions were removed from all possibility of local criticism, and local control must have made absolute rule the easier and less singular in all other relations of his office.

Nor ought we to forget wholly the outer influences which were acting on Southampton from the world beyond the water. With Flanders it seems to have had little direct communication. So long as the Mediterranean galleys carried its wool to the Netherland ports, and returned to pick up their freight for the homeward journey, the associations and commerce of Southampton were with the great cities of Italy, too far removed from it in every conceivable respect to serve as schools of political freedom; and with the communes of France whose liberties had long suffered decay, and in the fifteenth century were finally extinguished by the policy of Louis the Eleventh, the subtle enemy of popular liberties.[619] It is hard to tell how far Southampton may have been affected by such foreign associations, but at least they did not tend to weaken the influences at home which made for oligarchic rule. Undoubtedly if we compare this town with other English boroughs where civic life was more free and expansive in its growth, the municipal record, in spite of its brilliant commercial side, is one of singular monotony, and leaves us with the sense of a stunted developement in the body politic. Southampton, in fact, was by its position and dignity called to play so great a part in the national history, both in war and commerce, that all claim to private and local independence was superseded. At a far earlier date than other towns its destiny was merged in the fortunes of the whole commonwealth,[620] and the king suffered no deviation from the service required of it to the state. In a very remarkable way Southampton anticipated the history of boroughs which under the Tudors were drawn into the same duty and service; through successive centuries its burghers acquiesced in the expert administration of a small official class, scarcely fettered by popular control; and abandoned the pursuit of new ideals of communal life or new experiments in government.

CHAPTER XIII

THE COUNCIL OF NOTTINGHAM

Problems of government sat lightly on the people of Nottingham. Singularly favoured as it was by fortune compared with many other towns, there is something phenomenal in the record of a town so tranquil, so uniformly prosperous, so exempt from apprehension, with so complacent a record of successful trading and undisturbed ease. Administration was carried on in its simplest form, and few sacrifices were demanded of the inhabitants, whether of labour or of money, compared with the efforts which were required of less fortunate towns. The interest, in fact, of its history lies in the quiet picture that is given of a group of active and thriving traders, at peace with their neighbours, and for the most part at peace with themselves.

The position of Nottingham was one of great military importance; for lying almost at the centre of the kingdom, the town held the approach to the one bridge over the Trent by which the main road from the south struck northward: and further commanded the navigation of the river from the point where, broadened by the confluence of the Derwent and the Soar, it became a great highway of internal communication. Throughout its history, therefore, from the time of the Danes down to the time of the Civil War, Nottingham could not be left out of account when any fighting was going on. But England was in the main a land of peace, and the occasional and intermittent importance of an internal fortress was wholly different from the consequence that attached to a border castle like that of Bristol, or to outposts against foreign foes such as the walled seaport towns of the coast. Hence the military advantages of its site made but little mark on the character and history of the town, and the castle which crowned the sandstone cliff that rose precipitously from the waters of the river Lene played no great part in the life of the mediæval borough. Lying well out of reach of all foreign foes, it fell into no misfortunes such as Rye, which was destroyed by fire twice in half a century, nor was it impoverished by taxes for defence against the French such as threatened to leave Southampton desolate; and its merchants were only occasionally required to make contribution towards the protection of the coast and the safety of the sea-borne trade which added to their wealth and luxury. Thus, when the keeping of the sea was given in 1406 to the English merchants, their elected Admiral of the Fleet, Nicholas Blackburn, wrote a peremptory order to Nottingham for £200 as its share of the cost;[621] but the merchants’ experiment failed, and they were relieved of their responsibility before they had levied any second toll.