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of the Trinity guild, who thenceforth went by the mayor's side in all municipal processions,[167] an order afterwards rescinded probably to gratify one of Boteler's successors; the mayor from that time walked alone, the master and recorder together.[168] The labours of the town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.