Troubles of this kind were a feature of the times when the gentry flocked into the city to see the far-famed Corpus Christi shows, or to be near the Court, for Henry VI. and his Queen tarried frequently at Coventry. On Corpus Christi even in the year 1448 Sir Humphrey Stafford and his son Richard were attacked in the Broadgate[630] after nightfall, as they came from Lady Shrewsbury's[631] lodging, by Sir Robert Harcourt and his men. Richard was slain and his father wounded in the darkness and confusion, while two of the Harcourt faction died also in the fray. All this took place, says John Northwood, writing to Viscount Beaumont, "as men say, in a Paternoster while." It was a terrible business; Northwood, evidently striving to be exact, could hardly describe how it happened. The two chief enemies, he says, "fell in handes togyder, and Sir Robert smot hym (Sir Humphrey) a grette stroke on the hed with hys sord, and Richard with hys dagger hastely went toward hym, and as he stombled on of Harcourts men smot hym in the bak with a knyfe, men wotte not ho hytt was reddely; hys fader hard noys and rode toward hem and hys men ronne before hym thyderward, and in the goyng downe of hys hors, on, he wotte not ho,[632] be hynd hym smot hym on the hede with a nege tole,[633] men know not with us with what wepone, that he fell downe and hys son fell downe be fore hym as goode as dede." And the whole affray—characteristically enough—was "be cawse of an old debate that was betwene heme for takyng of a dystres as hyt is told." The law was not always prompt in bringing gentlefolk to account, and Sir Robert Harcourt at that time escaped justice, only to be overtaken by revenge, however, twenty-two years later, when he died at the hands of the Staffords.[634]
Among the citizens also certain feasts and merry-makings ministered occasion for riots and quarrels. Such were the Lammas feasts, whereon the chamberlains, with a tumultuous following, opened out the common pasture lands that encircled the city. Such again were the three great processional nights, the vigils of Corpus Christi, of S. John the Baptist (Midsummer eve) and S. Peter. "The people come at Lammas," runs an order of Leet, "in excess number and unruly, to ill ensample"; and it was laid down that only a few from each ward, who had been appointed by the corporation, should accompany the chamberlains on their annual ride. Moreover, "great debate and manslaughter and other perils and sins" fell out on Midsummer eve and S. Peter's night, because so "great a multitude" was gathered together at that season within the city, "that it lieth in no man's power ... for to please them all";[635] and the Church tried to interfere in the interests of peace, but without success. Occasionally the good folk of the place fell to blows, it would seem, on ordinary working days, without having their presence at a merry-making to urge in extenuation of their fault. Thus in 1444 the corvesars, or tanners of leather, fell out about some obscure point or other with the weavers, and so hotly did the quarrel rage between them, and so frequent the exchange of deadly blows, that Thomas Burdeux, weaver, was said to be in "despair of his life" by reason of the sore beating he had received. The quarrel was allayed, according to the wisdom of the mayor and his discreet council, by the drinking of a certain amount of ale among the fellowship of both crafts at their joint expense.[636]
But few pleasures appealed to the mediæval citizen so strongly as that of dining well; and besides these peace-promoting drinkings there were many occasions whereon members of guilds and crafts met together to feast and do their best to justify the reputation, which still clings to city folk and aldermen, of loving good cheer. The meals of the Middle Ages were long and heavy. The highly-flavoured cookery, with its strange mixture of meat and sweets—fowls stuffed with currants was a favourite dish—would appear barbarous to modern epicures; but such as it was, vast preparations and much money were lavished upon it. The members of each craft fellowship met once a year to hold a feast, while the brethren of the Trinity guild celebrated the Assumption and S. Peter's Eve by a banquet and probably also the festival of the Decollation of S. John. The Corpus Christi had a "Lenton" dinner, a "goose" dinner in August, and a "venison" one in October,[637] and in 1492 they spent £26, 0s. 4d. on their feasts, a sum only 13s. less than the annual stipend due to the five priests supported by the guild.[638] But the record of common feasting is not yet exhausted. The members of the Corpus Christi fraternity met together at a breakfast on the morning of the festival of the Body of Christ, and all the crafts supped on cakes and ale on the great processional nights. One dozen spiced cakes, three dozen white cakes, "a seysterne" and a half of ale with "comfets," and a pound of "marmalet" were ordered for the carpenters' merry-making on Midsummer eve, 1534.[639] Nor were the journeymen forgotten on these joyous evenings; they partook of plainer fare—bread and ale—at their master's expense.
On Midsummer and S. Peter's eves the townsfolk gave themselves up to mirth and jollity, decorating banqueting-halls, streets, and houses with birchen boughs and all manner of greenery.[640] This custom was, Stowe tells us, also observed in London, where every man's door was "shadowed with Greene Birch, long Fennel, S. John's wort, Orpin, white Lilies, and such like, garnished with Garlands of beautifull flowers, and had also Lamps of glasse with Oyle burning in them all the night."[641] But lamps were not the only means of illumination on those joyous nights. "On the Vigils of Festivall dayes and on the same Festivall dayes in the Evenings," continues the London chronicler, "after the Sun-setting, there were usually made Bone-fires in the streets, every man bestowing wood or labour towards them. The wealthier sort also before their doores, neere to the said Bone-fires, would set out Tables on the vigils, furnished with sweete bread and good drinke, and on the Festivall days with meats and drinkes plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours and passengers also to sit, and be merry with them in great familiarity, praysing God for his benefits bestowed on them. These were called Bone-fires, as well of amity amongst neighbours, that being before at controversie, were there by the labour of others reconciled, and made of bitter enemies loving friends."[642]
It is good to dwell on this scene of frank gaiety and open-handed hospitality, the pleasantest, to my thinking, that has come to us from mediæval times. The dusk lighted by the flicker of the bonfires, the flower-wreathed houses, the merry groups, the hand-clasp in token of reconciliation, what a picturesque glimpse we have here of common union and common joy to which our fêtes and holidays nowadays can afford no parallel!
But the chief glory of these festal nights was the setting forth of the armed watch.[643] This was not such an imposing spectacle in Coventry as in London, where the route extended, says Stowe, "to 3200 Taylors yards of assize." The procession way was lighted by 700 cressets, and the marching watch numbered 2000 men. Yet the Coventry folk made great preparation for their humbler show, which was undertaken, so said the drapers' craft with pardonable pride, "to the lawde and prayse of God and the worship of this city." All the craft fellowships met together to consult as to ways and means some days beforehand, "at the mayor's commandment," and dire penalties were laid on those who should refuse to attend on Midsummer night when the chief master sent his "clerk or sumoner" to warn them.[644] When all was ready for the procession, the worthy folk rode forth, two by two, each man in the livery proper to his calling, the least important brotherhood going first, the others following, each in their degree, until the train of fellowships closed with the mercers, the senior craft.[645] The journeymen, perhaps on foot, followed their masters, and the chief folk of the corporation rode conspicuous in their scarlet cloaks, each one having an attendant torchbearer.[646] But the chief glory of the procession was the sight of the watch riding in shining armour, and bearing battle-axes, swords and guns. Thus the dyers sent forth two clad in complete white armour, and four in brigandines, the drapers four "in almayne revetts," while the smiths among others hired four, and the butchers made provision for six armed men.[647] Moreover, a crowd of minstrels and hirelings bearing cressets, torches, spears gay with pennons and bells,[648] streamers whereon were depicted the arms of the various crafts,[649] and mirth-provoking figures of giants and giantesses,[650] caused the streets to fill with colour, light, music, and laughter. The citizens in the dusk of those June evenings beheld a right gallant show. There was the sound of minstrelsy, broken by a sudden discharge of guns,[651] with the murmur of many voices and the tramp of many feet, and between the rows of densely packed crowd the torchlights glinted on the bright advancing line of the armed watch, or glowed on the stately figures of my masters the mayor, sheriffs and aldermen, arrayed in scarlet, bringing up maybe the rear of the train. In this manner did the good folk of Coventry celebrate the vigils of S. John the Baptist and S. Peter, according to the ancient custom of the city, until the changes of the sixteenth century, or the growth of Puritan feeling, or poverty, or a combination of all these, caused the observance to be laid aside. The riding on S. Peter's eve was discontinued after 1549,[652] though Midsummer eve was still celebrated by a procession for some years after that date.
On the morning of the Corpus Christi festival, before the Mystery Plays were acted, another procession of the crafts, more strictly religious in character than those we have described, also took place. Following the train of companies of traders and artificers came the members or priests of the Trinity guild bearing the Host, the various religious bodies of the city probably walking behind the Sacrament. The Corpus Christi guild provided gorgeous vessels, wherein the consecrated elements were placed, and four burgesses hired by the fraternity carried a canopy of costly material over the same, while the effect of the religious ceremonial was heightened by banner and crucifix coming from the treasuries of the guilds. A pageant setting forth scenes in the life of the Virgin, the Annunciation, which, on account of its mystical meaning, was highly appropriate to the occasion, and the Assumption also figured in the train, and the records of the Corpus Christi guild show the payments made to the persons who represented S. Gabriel bearing the lily,[653] the Virgin with a crown of great price upon her head, the twelve apostles, including S. Thomas of India, eight virgins, S. Margaret and S. Catherine. And the smiths caused the actor who was to represent Herod in their pageant to ride on horseback in a gorgeously painted coat in the procession. After this portion of the festival was over, the craftsfolk set forth the famous plays or pageants, whereof the fame filled Coventry from time to time with royal and noble visitors, and all the good folk of the surrounding country. Henry V. in 1416, Margaret of Anjou in 1457, Richard III. in 1485, Henry VII. in 1487, and again with his Queen, Elizabeth of York, in 1493,[654] witnessed these shows, which in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries were at the height of their popularity.
Among the everyday people who came at this season in crowds to Coventry, merchants combined business with religious edification, since the fair followed hard on the plays,[655] with others the latter counted most. "If you believe not me," says a preacher in the Hundred Merry Tales, at the conclusion of his sermon on the Creed, "then for a more surety and sufficient authority, go your way to Coventry and there ye shall see them all played in Corpus Christi play."[656] We may take it that the dramatic illusion was notably sustained in these plays, and that they "fortified the unlearned in their faith." The men of this midland city had a passion for acting; they performed on every occasion; such adepts were they at their art that we hear of their playing at Court in 1530, at Bristol and Abingdon in 1570, and four times in Leicester between 1564 and 1571-2.[657] In this manner did Warwickshire folk prepare for Shakespeare's coming. The soil on which the Elizabethan drama grew with such luxuriance, had been tilled for well-nigh two hundred years by nameless actors, who set forth on local stages the tragedy, which for simple dignity, has no peer among the tragedies of the world.
The famous Corpus Christi pageants were not of lay but of clerical origin. The church was the earliest theatre; clerks the first actors; and the earliest plays grew out of the dramatic rendering of parts of the Easter and Christmas services—a colloquy between those representing the angel at the sepulchre and the women bearing precious ointment,[658] or the singing by a choirboy "in the similitude of an angel" perched "in excelso"—aloft—of glad tidings to personators of the shepherds of Bethlehem,[659] or the successive utterance of clerks in the character of Isaiah, Habakkuk and other prophets of appropriate testimony to the coming of Christ. From such simple, liturgical sources there developed first in clerical, then in lay, hands, a religious drama which ultimately covered the whole field of Christian history from the Creation to the Day of Doom. In view of the near connection between the Coventry monks and the Lichfield canons, it is of great interest to note that the Peregrini—the appearance of Christ to the travellers at Emmaus—an early development of the Easter cycle, and the Pastores, or the Christmas Shepherds' play, were regularly performed at Lichfield under Bishop Hugh of Nonant.[660] Of other plays, called Miracula or Miracles, whereof the source was not the liturgy, but rather the life of a saint, there is frequent mention; such an one in honour of S. Catherine was performed before 1119 at a monastic school at Dunstable on the road between London and Coventry. Nearly 400 years later a "miracle" on the same subject was seen in the "Little Park" just outside the walls of the midland city.
As the liturgical plays grew long and elaborate they ceased to be included in the church service; and gradually it came about that the churchyard, since it would admit of more spectators than the church, was deemed a more fitting place for their representation, as at Beverley, where about 1220 a crowd assembled to witness a play on the Resurrection.[661] Thence, so greatly did the laity love these shows, they passed to convenient greens and highways, somewhat to the scandal of rigider moralists, who held that, though clerks might act in church plays, it was a "sight of sin" for them to hold these performances in a more secular neighbourhood. It was probably in response to this feeling that the regular clergy—save on occasions the friars—gradually withdrew from out door plays, and that lay performers, controlled by the growing and wealthy craft-guilds, practically replaced clerks. The vulgar tongue ousted Latin, and plays proper to Easter and Christmas, linked together into one whole religious story, were acted on the great processional feasts, when daylight is longest, Corpus Christi or, less frequently, Whitsuntide. The process, still somewhat obscure to us, whereby the performances passed under secular control, would seem to be complete in the fourteenth century. Local tradition places the earliest representation at Chester in 1328, while we have more certain knowledge of them at Beverley in 1377, York in 1378 and Coventry in 1392. What part, if any, was played by the professional entertainers, wandering "mimes," minstrels and jugglers in the gradual secularization of the plays we know not, neither is there definite information about the earliest dramatic authors, save that tradition points to Ralph Higden of Polychronicon fame as author of the Chester cycle. Plays, however, were so frequently revised and expanded by local folks, clerks and laymen, that they sometimes became, like the Coventry craft-plays, affairs of metrical patchwork. The last redaction these special dramas underwent was at the hands of Robert Croo, a jack-of-all-trades theatrical, by whom they were "neuly translate" or "neuly correcte" in 1535.[662]