The play about Jesus’ Last Supper was central to the message of the Feast of Corpus Christi: here, we see the first use of bread in the ritual that would become the Mass. Sadly, the Register copy of the Bakers’ Guild play is missing some pages in the middle, right when Jesus broke the bread and including when he gives a piece to Judas, indicating to his nearby disciple John secretly that this means he’s the traitor. The missing section ends with Jesus’ words to Judas in Latin, “what you are going to do, do quickly.”
We know that the play begins with the owner of the Upper Room, here named Marcellus, discusses with Jesus that he has the lamb all cooked and ready for Passover, here called “the feeste of Paas.” Jesus’ lines are more doctrinal than realistic as he tells Marcellus and the audience that he intends to amend Jewish law for the future:
Of Moyses lawes here make I an ende
In som party [part], but noght in all;
My comaundement schall othirwise be kende
With tham that men schall craftely [wisely] call.
But the lambe of Pasc that here is spende [dispensed with],
Whilke Jewes uses grete and small,
Evere forward nowe I itt deffende [forbid]
Fro Cristis folke whatso befall.
In that stede schall be sette
A newe lawe us bytwene,
But who therof schall ette
Behoves to be wasshed clene.
Marcellus brings a pitcher of water, and Jesus and Peter act out the foot-washing that was also re-enacted by priests during Holy Week, on Maundy Thursday. Someone in the wagon’s retinue, perhaps a lucky apprentice, must have been detailed to make sure the pitcher was full for each stop. Every city had wells, pipes or fountains here and there, so the boy must have run to find the nearest one as the wagon’s cistern ran out.
The obvious reason that the Bakers’ Guild produced this play was the bread needed for Jesus to break and give to his disciples. The bread or wafers used in church was not generally made by secular bakers, but by a monastic bakery. But this was a great chance for the guild to stand in and actually provide the bread that wouldn’t be truly consecrated as the Host was, but instead would play that role. Did they make something that was strictly unleavened, sort of medieval matzoh? Or did they use a more conventional European loaf? Some stained glass windows seem to show a conventional rounded loaf; further, at least one shows Judas stealing a piece of fish at the Last Supper, under the table.
In any case, I think Jesus took a fresh whole loaf or flatbread and broke it in half, handing it to the left and right, which was then broken again until they all had a piece. The disciples were probably ranged around a table much as Da Vinci portrays, perhaps with Judas on the other side, his back to the audience. Seven of them, including Judas, had speaking lines.
With seventeen performances through the day, it’s not likely that the actors playing the disciples ate everything unless the loaf was pretty small. It probably wasn’t, since the Bakers were showing off their craft to the city. When the play had ended, the broken pieces of bread were probably gathered into a basket that filled up as the wagon trundled through York. At the last stop, in the late afternoon, the guild probably distributed the bread scraps to the poor, or perhaps the local poor crowded around each stop to get the scraps immediately.
We know from the guild’s records that between 1542 and 1569, they also made a special bread for the Mayor and City Council. It was something called “mayne bread,” which may have been a type of cookie sweetened with sugar or honey, somewhat leavened by eggs, and flavored with spices. It was shaped like a shield, probably in the coat of arms of York. Perhaps at one of the stops, before or after the play, the Bakers presented this shaped bread to the council. It may have been large enough for them to break up and share among a dozen men as a refreshment between performances.
This raises a larger question about this festival that lasted from dawn to dark: what did people eat during the day? We should envision a city crammed with extra people from surrounding towns, all mostly outdoors for the day. Just as a modern city would have food trucks parked anywhere a space could be found, so medieval York would have been filled with vendors on foot or with carts.
Medieval towns had already developed a full system of taverns and cook-shops. Taverns were sometimes licensed only to sell ale or beer, so if a customer wanted food, he had to bring his own. The main reason would be that no potentially-dangerous fire had to be on the property. Cook-shops had fires and were licensed for food, so they may have provided take-out or limited eat-in fare for taverns. Both types of business would have been in full swing for the Festival, along with farmers and specialized producers.
The typical way food was sold on the streets by criers has been preserved in sports stadiums. You’ve been to a baseball game and heard the cries of “Beer here!” “Hot dogs!” If you signal interest, the vendor comes over, and he has a wide tray attached to his shoulders by a strap, balanced against his abdomen. That’s precisely what you should picture in this case. Food sellers had trays of cold meat pies, sheep’s or cow’s cheese, salt beef or bacon, and hard-boiled eggs, as well as various kinds of small breads. Meat pies were the medieval equivalent of hot dogs, a ready meal in your hand, made with cheap meat and cheap bread. In seasons when fruit was available, there were trays of apples and pears, but in early June, York could only have had fresh strawberries.
Some street vendors, who were less mobile, cooked things on charcoal right on the street. It’s likely that you could buy hot waffles at the Festival that were pretty similar to the funnel cakes we see at county fairs today. Thomas Hardy’s novel The Mayor of Casterbridge also shows us how even in the early 1800s, fairs might have a vendor with a cauldron of frumenty (or furmenty). This was a thick pudding made of flour, milk or almond milk, honey, perhaps eggs or spices, and maybe–as in Hardy’s story–a shot of something alcoholic. Naturally, the “Beer here!” guy was also wandering around with a jug or a small keg. Ale did not keep long without hops, so some of it would be “Fresh ale! Get your fresh ale, made today!” People who intended to spend the day on the street may have brought a wooden mug or bowl along, so that the aleman could tip some in for a halfpenny. (This would also come in handy if you hankered for some frumenty.)
I’m sure the vendors were supposed to quiet down during a performance, either resting or moving onto streets that didn’t have a wagon stop. If the Bakers Guild themselves didn’t have bread vendors following their wagon, they missed a great opportunity, for as soon as the play was over, there might have been a clamor to have a meal just as “Jesus and the disciples” had done. With the townfolk all out and visitors jamming the streets, it may have been one of the best business days of the year.