- tories, "opus plumarium," from the way the stitches overlie each other
like the feathers on a bird.
The stitchery on the armorial bearings is the same as that now followed in so many trifling things worked in wool.
The canvas for every part of this cope is of the very finest sort; but oddly enough, its crimson canvas lining is thick and coarse. What constituted, then, the characteristics of the "opus Anglicum," or English work, in mediæval embroidery were, first, the beginning of the stitchery in certain parts of the human figure—the face especially—in circular lines winding close together round and round; and, in the second place, the sinking of those same portions into permanent hollows by the use of a hot iron.
A word or two now about the history of this fine cope.
In olden days not a town, hardly a single parish, throughout England, but had in it one or more pious associations called "gilds," some of which could show the noblest amongst the layfolks, men and women, and the most distinguished of the clergy in the kingdom, set down upon the roll of its brotherhood, which often grew up into great wealth. Each of these gilds had, usually in its parish church, a chapel, or at least an altar of its own, where, for its peculiar service, it kept one if not several priests and clerics, provided, too, with every needful liturgical appliance, articles of which were frequently the spontaneous offering of individual brothers, who sometimes clubbed together for the purpose of thus making their joint gift more splendid. Now it is most remarkable that upon this cope, and quite apart from the sacred story on it, we have two figures, that to the left, pranked out in the gay attire of some rich layman; on the right, the other, who must be an ecclesiastic from the tonsure on his head; each bears an inscribed scroll in his hand, and both are in the posture of suppliants making offerings. This cleric and this layman may have been akin to one another, brothers, too, of the same gild for which they at their joint cost got this cope worked and gave to it. But where was this gild itself?
Among the foremost of our provincial cities once was reckoned Coventry. Its Corpus Christi plays or mysteries, illustrated by this embroidery, enjoyed such a wide-spread fame that for the whole eight days of their performance, every year, they drew crowds of the highest and the gentlest of the land far and near, as the "Paston Letters" testify, to see them; its gild was of such repute that our nobility—lords and ladies—our kings and queens, did not think it anywise beneath their high estate to be enrolled among its brotherhood. Besides many other authorities, we have one in that splendid piece
