If a history of the ancient Guildhalls of England could be compiled, it
would form an interesting volume; as the ancient fabrics wherein our
forefathers met to transact their civic affairs may almost be said to have
symbolised the _status_ of the municipalities in which they stood at
various epochs of their history. Our old English boroughs cannot boast the
possession of halls equal to the _Hotels de Ville_ of Belgium or France, or
the _Rath-häusen_ of Germany. We cannot show in this country edifices equal
to the Hotel de Ville of Brussels, or Aix-la-Chapelle, or Rouen, in point
of architectural extent or beauty; or of Ratisbon, or other German towns,
in point of venerable and antique interest. But we have buildings yet
standing among us which, if less imposing in their exteriors, are
nevertheless associated with historic memories of no common order, and
secondary in this respect to none of the grander town-halls of ancient
Flanders.
The guildhall of Leicester cannot boast of any outside show. It is plain to
meanness in this respect; it is on one side a mere barn in appearance; yet
it has its claim on the attention of the antiquary.
The first distinct mention of a guildhall in Leicester is in a small
charter, executed in the mayoralty of Peter Rogerson. From this it appears
that in 1250 William Ordriz, the son of Stephen, conveyed to the mayor and
burgesses a building which became the guildhall. The deed is endorsed
_Charta de la Gild Salle_. It contained three bays of buildings, was twenty
yards in length, and about eight yards from front to back. It had solars,
cellars, and dungeons. There was _then_ an older fabric, known as the
guildhall, which was conveyed to a private townsman in the year 1275. The
hall, of which the corporation became the possessors in 1250, remained in
use until the reign of Elizabeth, and even at intervals until the date of
the Commonwealth, being sometimes called the old Moot Hall, and at others
the "Old Shop."
Anterior to the Reformation two religious guilds had halls, known as St.
George's and Corpus Christi Halls. When these fraternities were dissolved,
the buildings remained; one near the east of St. Martin's church, the other
near its western extremity. The first of these fell into entire disuse and
decay; while the latter, Corpus Christi Hall, gradually superseded as a
civic edifice the old Moot Hall. I have found in the hall books of the
borough of Leicester entries as early as the 10th of Henry VIII., in which
the hall of Corpus Christi Guild is referred to as the occasional place of
meeting of the municipal body. A deed, bearing date the 5th of Elizabeth,
states that the queen had conveyed the hall to Cecily Pickerell of Norwich,
widow, who reconveyed it to the recorder of Leicester, Braham, evidently as
the representative of the mayor and burgesses, not then formally
incorporated.
Meanwhile, the old hall seems to have served as a lock-up or gaol, and was
finally sold in 1653 to a maltster, who would undoubtedly convert the roomy
old structure into a malt-house.
The Corpus Christi Hall would appear to have been enlarged when it was
fairly in the hands of the civic authorities, not only in the reign of
Elizabeth (about the year 1586), but in that of Charles I. Many particulars
about the building will be found in the _Handbook of Leicester_.
The guildhall of Leicester is _within_ one of the most picturesque old
structures of the country, and is well described by your correspondent KT.
As you enter, its rude rafters rise directly from the ground on either
hand, and embrace over the head of the visitor, forming pointed arches. As
you advance along the floor the beams widen, and the Tudor timbering and
architectural detail are clearly discernible; two staples still remaining
on one of the braces, which tradition says sustained the scenery of the
players in the time when theatrical performers were allowed to act there,
and when even Shakspeare figured in the histrionic group. Having reached
the western end you find yourself in front of the bench on which the mayor
and magistrates sit to dispense justice, the ancient gilded frame for the
mace (now tenantless) surmounting the chief magistrate's chair. The rich
old mantelpiece of the mayor's parlour, and the fragments of painted glass
in its windows, enhance and complete the antiquarian attractions of this
relic of Edwardian and Elizabethan architecture.