certain powers of regulating their trade; and, this once obtained, we hear no more of the Guild—­it became absorbed into the Company.  The religious observances remained, but they were no longer put forward as the chief ‘articles’ of association.  The powers granted by Royal Charter were very strong.  The Company was empowered to prohibit anyone from working at that trade within the jurisdiction of the City who was not a member of the Company; it could prevent markets from being held within a certain distance of the City; it could oblige all the youth of the City to be apprenticed to some Company; it could regulate wages and hours of work; it could examine the work before it could be sold; and it could limit the number of the workmen.  The Company, in fact, ruled its own trade with an authority from which there was no appeal.  On the other hand, the Company exercised a paternal care over its members.  When they were sick, the Company provided for them; when they became old, the Company maintained them; if any became dishonest, the Company turned them out of the City.  You, who think yourselves strong with your Trades Unions (things as yet undeveloped and with all their history before them), have never yet succeeded in getting a tenth part of the power and authority over your own men that was excercised by a City Company in the time of Richard II. over its Livery.

Then, in order to maintain the dignity of the Craft, a livery was chosen, the colours of which were worn by every member.  On their saint’s day, as in the old days of the Guild, the Company marched in great magnificence, with music and flags and new liveries, with their wardens, officers, schoolboys, almsmen, and priests, to church.  After church they banqueted together in the Company’s Hall, a splendid building, where a great feast was served, and where the day was honoured by the presence of guests—­great nobles, city worthies, even the Lord Mayor, perhaps, or some of the Aldermen, or the Bishop, or one of the Abbots of the City Religious Houses.  Every man was bidden to bring his wife to the feast of the Company’s grand day—­if not his wife, then his sweetheart, for all were to feast together.  During dinner the musicians in their gallery made sweet music.  After dinner, actors and tumblers came in, and they had pageants and shows, and marvellous feats of skill and legerdemain.

Ask yourselves, at this point, whether it is possible to conceive of an institution more purely democratic than such a company as originally designed.  All the craftsmen of every craft combining together, not one allowed to stand out, electing their own officers, obeying rules for the general good, building halls, holding banquets, and creating a spirit of pride in their craft.  What more could be desired?  Why do we not imitate this excellent example?

Yet, when we look at the City Companies, what do we find?  The old Craft Companies, it is true, still exist; they have an income of many thousands a year, and a livery, or list of members, in number varying from twenty to four hundred, and not one single craftsman left among them.  What has become, then, or the Association?  Well, that remains, the shadow remains, but the substance has long since gone.  Even the craft itself, in many cases, has disappeared.  There are no longer in existence, for instance, Armourers, Bowyers, Fletchers, or Poulterers.