24. On Market Day

Each Tuesday and Friday morning in 15th century Hull, one of the town’s aldermen, dressed in his finest fur-edged robes, walked out of the Guildhall into Marketgate.  As the clock of Holy Trinity reached nine, with great gravitas and solemnity he rang the bell that hung on the side of the century old Guildhall.  The noise carried right up the packed street to the furthest market stalls near Whitefriargate; a proud metallic ring worthy of the princely sum of 6s 8d that the bell had cost.  That day’s market was now officially open.

Sometimes the sheriff or town crier would accompany the alderman if there was a royal proclamation to read, or more accurately bellow, to the gathered crowd.  With people still dissecting the king’s latest news about war or taxes, the swirl of market day began - enthusiastic haggling; the clattering and chinking of silver groats and pennies; and vigorous allegations that unofficial, inaccurate weights were being used.

This activity was overseen by the market keeper, who monitored cleanliness, location of stalls, and the display of food.  The keeper was not trusted however with the cornmarket; that was the responsibility of the alderman on duty.  Although medieval diets included fish, meat and a few root vegetables, bread was the most important part of every meal.  Consequently to ensure all got their fare share, until 1pm only local householders and cooks could buy corn.  Ship-owners and the like wishing to buy in bulk had to wait their turn.

For the same reason, it was important that the king’s assize of bread was kept.  This stipulated that bakers must produce loaves of a set size, which then must be sold at set price linked to the cost of wheat.  Those who tried to make a bit extra profit by baking undersized loaves risked fines and after three offences a stint in the pillory.  Hull’s pillory was located over a shop in Marketgate and here, locked in by the arms and neck, miscreants faced the customers that they had attempted to defraud.  After 1427 a roof provided some protection from any missiles hurled their way, but there was still the public shaming.

As the afternoon rolled around trade quietened down.  With shopping done, now was a chance for the citizens of Hull to catch up with friends and acquaintances from outside town.  The market keeper could take a well-deserved rest, his day having started early supervising the fish market that was held at either six or seven o’clock depending on the season.  Hull’s inns filled with visitors looking for a bite to eat and a refreshing drink or two before beginning the journey home.

Photo: Statue of King William III at the southern end of Market Place, Hull, close by to where the medieval Guildhall once stood.

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23. Becoming Mayor

If you were hungry for power in medieval Hull, the best way to sate your appetite was to serve as mayor.  There was no more prestigious post, especially after the role expanded once Hull becoming a county in 1440.  During your term of office you enjoyed the right to inspect any ship's cargo; were responsible for maintaining law and order; and had the honour of hobnobbing with visiting dignitaries. 

As mayor you were entitled to wear robes of the same design as the mayor of the City of London, accessorised with a cape and furs befitting of your status.  There could be no greater sign of your importance as you progressed down the High Street then this outfit coupled with a man walking in front of you carrying an upright sword.  To stand a chance of wearing this finery, you first had to be a burgess, or full citizen, of Hull.  In return for trading privileges, burgesses swore an oath of loyalty to the town and to support its government.

To stand the best chance of fulfilling your dream of becoming mayor, you should be a merchant as for 51 of the years between 1440 and 1500 that was the mayor’s day job.  The merchant Robert Shaddos served as mayor, which doubtless aided his apprentices when later they aspired to the role as at least three of them followed in his footsteps.  In practical terms, merchants were more likely to be sufficiently literate to cope with the paperwork that came with government.

Before the top job, you first had to prove yourself by serving in poorly paid minor offices.  Taking your turn as town chamberlain in charge of finances was a must, whilst sitting as a Member of Parliament could prove your loyalty to the town as you represented its views in matters like fishing rights in Iceland.  Armed with an impressive record of service, the final hurdle was to become one of the 12 aldermen who formed the council that governed Hull. 

When a vacancy arose, you had to schmooze the existing alderman to get them to nominate you for election, emphasising how you could be trusted as safe pair of hands.  Two people were nominated and the final vote went to all of Hull’s burgesses, so your campaigning had to convince butchers, bakers and brick-makers that you understood their concerns.  Once elected though, you were then an alderman for life.  Each year an alderman would serve as mayor, with no consecutive terms allowed.  So all you had to do was bide your time, avoid the grim reaper, and your turn would come.

Picture: From Letters Patents of 1440 granting Hull the status of country and granting its council privileges.  Text taken from Boyle, J R (ed.) Charters and letters patent granted to Kingston upon Hull.

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22. Enterprising Medieval Merchants

For most people in the 15th century the world in which they lived was small.   The England that they personally knew might stretch little further then 20 miles from their home.  Occasionally they might meet travellers who could regal them with tales of life in London, somewhere that they themselves could never hope to visit.  They heard news from other countries of course, not least France with whom England had been at war for as long as anyone could remember, but it had little impact on their everyday lives.

Like other port towns though, Hull was different.  Stand by the River Hull on a busy day and you would see ships unloading French garlic, cabbages from Holland and wood from Norway.  More exotic produce came via the major trading towns of Bruges and London, where European dealers sold delights like almonds, pomegranates and oranges that could then be transported back to Hull.  You might even spot a ship returning from far off Iceland, where merchants had just begun to organise voyages to exchange corn and beer for fish.

Most inhabitants of Hull were merchants or mariners who would be in contact with traders across western Europe, the Baltic states and even beyond.  Merchants often spent their youth travelling, acquainting themselves with overseas markets before settling into a more managerial role back home.  Unlike in Hull's early days when Flemish and Italian merchants ruled the roost, now those from Yorkshire had the upper hand.  Yorkshire merchants imported nearly all of the wine that came through Hull, at least 80% of the cloth and controlled what remained of the declining wool trade.

Personal connections were everything.  Those from outside Hull wishing to trade in the port had to have an existing inhabitant sponsor them and stand guarantor for their behaviour.  Mercantile communities across Yorkshire were closely linked as families used new members to grow their influence.  Merchants living in York or Beverley who wanted their sons to follow into the family business sent them away to Hull to serve their apprenticeship.  Thereby they not only learned the trade but also established new business links benefiting all involved.

Not all of Hull’s merchants were part of this wealthy elite.  There were also part-time traders like Laurence Swattock.  For much of the time Laurence worked as an apothecary but whilst mixing his herbs and potions he kept an ear to the ground for promising deals that offered the chance to make a bit of profit.  His fellow citizens would still have viewed Laurence as a merchant and as such socially a cut above those engaged in troublesome, dirty trades like butchery.

Photo: Bishop Lane Staith, Hull, looking west towards High Street.

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21. An Unusual Visitor

In medieval England few people travelled for leisure or to visit places where they were unknown.  Strangers in Hull were a rarity, especially female ones.  Margery Kempe would therefore have caused quite a stir as she arrived one day in 1417.  Dressed all in white she and her small band of followers would have made a striking sight as she walked down the High Street or stopped in the Market Place to admire Holy Trinity.

A few in Hull may have heard rumours about Margery.  She had apparently left her husband, children and a conventional family life in Norfolk to dedicate her life to God.  Visions of Jesus had instructed her to undertake pilgrimages alone to Rome, Spain and the Holy Land.  So deep were her religious feelings, she was said to cry out and sob intensely when at pray or receiving communion.

Women could live a religious life, as long as they did so quietly in holy orders as a nun.  They should not live like Margery Kempe travelling around the country.  Although even as nuns they were seen as less holy then men.  When setting up his religious house in Hull, Michael de la Pole had at first considered a house of nuns, but then decided that the monks of a Cathusian monastery would serve God far better.

Margery’s unusual behaviour in a time that didn’t tolerate difference meant she was often accused of being a Lollard, one who held deviant religious beliefs.  She was regularly arrested by the authorities and interrogated on suspicion of heresy, although each time they were forced to admit that she held the correct opinions on crucial matters such as the Eucharist.

Margery did have some supporters among the clergy and before arriving in Hull she had spent some time with her confessor at Bridlington Priory.  Most people in Hull though feared what harbouring an alleged heretic would do for their standing both in front of the Almighty and authorities closer to home.  After spending just one fretful night in the town, Margery had to leave but only got as far as Hessle before being arrested once again. 

She was escorted to Beverley amid jeers from passers by of  ‘Burn this false heretic’.  As this was cloth producing country, to this was added the regional specific shout that she should ‘go and spin…wool as other women do’.  After undergoing questioning once again, Margery was once again declared orthodox.  Later in life, once ill health had curtailed her wanderings, Margery dictated a book documenting the unique and difficult path God had called her to follow.  This book is the earliest surviving autobiography written in English.

Pictures: Extract from Margery Kempe’s autobiography.  Top from: The Book of Margery Kempe (Medieval Institute Publications, 1996), full text can be found at: http://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/publication/staley-the-book-of-margery-kempe.  Below from: B. A. Windeatt (trans) The Book of Margery Kempe (Penguin, 2004)

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