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THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA 
 
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 k\ 
 
 Copyright, 1893, 
 By MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 Nortoooti ^rrss : 
 
 J. S- Cushing & Co —Berwick & Smith. 
 
 Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
1 - 
 
 This little volume embodies a brief course of lectures 
 delivered in the Summer School of Colorado Springs, July, 
 1893. The indebtedness of the Appendix to Stoddard's 
 References for Students of Miracle Plays and Mysteries, 
 Library Bulletin, No. 8, University of California, should not 
 pass unacknowledged. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Latin Passion Plays and Saint Plays i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Miracle Plays — Description 35 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Miracle Plays — Enumeration 88 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Miracle Plays — Dramatic Values . . . .168 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Moralities 201 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 Topical Outline and References • . . . 240 
 
THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 
 
 The history of the European theatre, not only- 
 west of the Channel, but upon the Continent as 
 well, bears resemblance to the history of the little 
 English robin, who, as his strength waxes and his 
 breast brightens and his song grows tuneful, turns 
 his ungrateful bill against the parents who have 
 reared him, so that the misty autumn mornings ring 
 with melodious defiances and cries of combat be- 
 tween the young birds and the old. In like manner 
 the romantic drama, born of the Church and nourV 
 ished by the Church, came in time, as it acquired 
 an independent life and gradually passed from sacred 
 to secular uses, to incur the resentful hostility of 
 the parent bird, whose plumage its mischievous 
 young activity loved to ruffle. 
 
 It is not only the Christian drama which has a 
 religious basis. We find religious passion at the 
 heart of the drama of ancient India and of modern 
 
2 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Persia, while the very name tragedy confesses the 
 outgrowth of the Attic stage from sacrificial cere- 
 monies. At the altar of Dionysus, giver of wine, 
 giver of joy, giver of freedom, while the goat, the 
 thank-offering, stood waiting to be slain, the shaggy- 
 vestured priests, with one wild rhythm of voice 
 and step and gesture, chanted an anthem of praise 
 known as the goat-song (rpdyos 0)8/7), or tragedy. 
 So the paeon, with music of the flutes and rhythmic 
 dancing, was sung at Delphi in honour of Apollo ; 
 and song, too, entered into the mystic worship of 
 Demeter at Eleusis. And as at Delphi there grew 
 up, in connection with the lyric service, a repre- 
 sentation of the victory of the young god of light 
 over the deadly serpent, and as at Eleusis the rape 
 of Persephone and the wanderings of Demeter, 
 shown by the uncertain light of torches, were 
 woven into the symbolical rites, so from the choral 
 worship of Dionysus, by slower and more even 
 steps, leading to transcendent height, rose the 
 classic drama. 
 
 Yet even in beauty-loving Hellas there was a sen- 
 timent opposed to theatrical representation. Solon 
 is reported to have said, on meeting the car of 
 Thespis, that somewhat dim-featured founder of 
 Greek tragedy: "Are you not ashamed to tell so 
 many lies?" And the man of truth, Lycurgus, 
 would allow no theatre in Sparta. 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 3 
 
 It was at Rome, however, in the early centuries 
 of Christianity, that the cry against the drama waxed 
 loud, and not without reason ; for the Roman stage 
 was, from the outset, dull, trifling, vulgar, and grew 
 to be brutal, foul, horrible. The most celebrated of 
 Latin playwrights, Plautus and Terence, belonged 
 to the lowest ranks of society, for the followers of 
 the art so honoured and beloved in republican Athens 
 were disdained at republican Rome, and even under 
 the Empire not all the golden patronage of a Nero 
 or a Domitian could eradicate from Romans of the 
 good old stock their prejudice against the histrionic 
 craft. An actor who accepted payment forfeited 
 thereby his rights of citizenship. The scorn of the 
 Roman state was based, however, on grounds less 
 worthy than those whereon rested in these later 
 times the disapproval of the Christian Church. 
 Again and again she urged her members to refrain 
 from attending the theatre, threatening to cast 
 forth from her communion those who persisted in 
 this amusement. Actors she would not receive 
 save on condition of relinquishment of their pro- 
 fession. There was a striking case of the actor 
 Genesius, who, being baptised on the stage in mim- 
 icry of the Christian sacrament, was so impressed 
 by the solemn ceremony that henceforth he held 
 himself christened in very truth, sealed his pro- 
 fession with his blood in Diocletian's persecution, 
 
4 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 and was enrolled by the Church upon her list of 
 saints. 
 
 But still in the fourth century, and even in the 
 fifth, we find the Church warning, rebuking, excom- 
 municating, her theatre-goers. St. Augustine, in his 
 wild youth at Carthage, dearly loved a play. This 
 taste, repented later, was destined to rise against him 
 in whimsical form enough, when, centuries after he 
 had been laid to rest in bishop's vestments, he ap- 
 peared on the mediaeval miracle stage as a didactic 
 master of ceremonies. But the Church, although 
 her prohibitions and penances, her denunciations 
 and excommunications, together with the tide of 
 tumultuous times and the working of inherent decay, 
 finally swept the ancient drama from the boards, had 
 resorted meanwhile to subtler means for weaning her 
 children from these pagan plays. 
 
 As early as the close of the second century, a 
 Scriptural tragedy, founded upon Exodus and having 
 for its chief characters Moses, Sapphora, and God 
 from the Bush, had been written by a Jew named 
 Ezekiel. In the fourth century Apollinarius the 
 Elder, a priest of Laodicea, rewrote parts of the Old 
 Testament history in Homeric hexameters, and 
 worked over other parts into dramatic form, while 
 Bishop Apollinarius, his son, recast the New Testa- 
 ment into Platonic dialogues. A curious drama 
 entitled X/ko-to? Udaxoov — Christ's Passion — has 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 5 
 
 been long believed to be from the pen of St. Gregory 
 Nazianzene, Patriarch of Constantinople in the latter 
 part of the fourth century. The play is cast in the 
 Attic mould, hymns of the Church being substituted 
 for the original choruses. The action takes place 
 behind the scenes and is announced by messengers, 
 usually by the Virgin Mary. There are a few verses* 
 from ^Eschylus, chiefly from the Prometheus Bound, 
 and from Euripides is borrowed a third of the entire 
 verse of the play, including Mary's lament for the 
 crucified Christ, which is identical with Agaves 
 lament for her son in the Bacchanals. This portion 
 of the loan was not returned to the owner; for the 
 lamentation, having been applied to a use so sacred, 
 was afterwards omitted by the monastic copyists from 
 all texts of Euripides. It has been held that this 
 composite production found its way from Constanti- 
 nople into Italy, thence becoming known to western 
 Europe and suggesting to the mediaeval clergy the 
 expedient of impressing the Scripture story upon 
 their rude audiences by spectacular representation ; 
 but the latest editor of the XpLarbs Tiaaywv, Dr. 
 Brambs (Leipzig, 1885), has confounded these excel- 
 lent theories by deciding, from a searching investi- 
 gation of the metre, prosody, and grammar of the 
 play, that it can by no means be attributed to St. 
 Gregory, but belongs some six hundred years later. 
 Classic imitations somewhat similar to Xpiarbs 
 
6 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Hdax^v appeared in these later times, but in the 
 Latin tongue and with the stamp upon them of Latin 
 drama rather than of Greek. 
 
 For the tenth century, dark as it was, — the " star- 
 less century " so-called, — occasionally witnessed 
 within Benedictine cloisters the acting of dramatised 
 legends of the saints, these being written in the 
 Roman manner. Their best remembered author is 
 a German nun, Hroswitha, of Gandersheim in Sax- 
 ony, she who was styled " the Christian Sappho " 
 and "the loud voice from Gandersheim," and who, 
 turning the unholy leaves of Terence with one hand, 
 while she kept the other on her beads, assimilated so 
 much of his style and phraseology as to enable her 
 to produce a few comedies after the external likeness 
 of his own. Her themes, far different from those of 
 her model, are martyrdom and the glorification of 
 chastity. But we are not to conclude, from the ap- 
 pearance in the long mediaeval period of an occasional 
 Greek or Latin play, written from an open Euripides 
 or Terence, by a priest here or a nun there, acted 
 within the cloisters and before the limited audiences 
 of the learned, that in these we find the fountain- 
 head of the European theatre. Great movements do 
 not spring from origins of such a forced and conscious 
 character. Ward is the first of English critics to 
 clearly point out that the Passion Play, in which the 
 modern drama takes its rise, itself sprang from the 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. J 
 
 liturgical service of the Roman Church. It is but 
 the history of the Attic stage repeated. Ward dis- 
 covers in the mystical liturgy of the Mass, with its 
 blending of symbolic action, Scriptural narrative, and 
 outbursts of song, an artistic conception, a dramatic 
 progression, with pantomimic, epical, and lyrical ele- 
 ments. He notes that, as early as the fifth century, 
 this service, itself so picturesque and impressive, and, 
 in those early days, still elastic, not bound fast, as 
 now, to a fixed ritual, was embellished, on high 
 church festivals, as Easter and Christmas, by the 
 addition of living tableaux to illustrate the gospel 
 story. These tableaux would naturally come to be 
 accompanied by antiphonal singing, with a growing 
 effect of question and answer, while gesture and 
 action would gradually be introduced. Indeed, the 
 service of the Church being in Latin, there was from 
 a very early period especial appeal to the eye. In 
 Germany, at least, the priest was wont, in reading the 
 gospel story, to slowly unfold a roll which, on the side 
 toward the congregation, was pictured over with the 
 figures and scenes forming the subjects of the text. 
 Church paintings, carvings, statues, bas-reliefs, altar 
 pieces, emblazoned windows, crucifixes, were all fur- 
 ther and more elaborate attempts at an ocular trans- 
 lation of the Latin gospels for the curious, longing, 
 unlettered people. The tableaux vivants were but 
 another step in the same direction, action another, 
 
8 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 while the breaking up the Scripture text into dialogue 
 and the gradual addition and substitution of vernacu- 
 lar phrases were the inevitable sequences of these. 
 
 The three great days of the Christian year, Christ- 
 mas, Good Friday, and Easter, gave chief occasion 
 for these graphic and elaborate services. We should 
 need to become as little children and enter into the 
 hearts of the French and Italian babies of to-day, as 
 lifted high in a mother's arms, or on a father's shoul- 
 der, to view the mimic Bethlehem in candle-lighted 
 chapel, they throw delighted kisses to golden-haired 
 Mary and white-bearded Joseph, to the glittering 
 star, and to the smiling Christ-Child, if we would 
 realise what these representations signified in the 
 religious development of a mediaeval congregation. 
 That most engaging of saints, Francis of Assisi, 
 built a Christmas manger in the woods, and pictured 
 the beautiful group of the Nativity by means of liv- 
 ing men and women, with a genuine baby, and a 
 genuine ox and ass. Yet our own exchange of Christ- 
 mas gifts should do something toward bringing us 
 into sympathy with the days when the peasants of 
 Flanders used to lay at the feet of the Christ-Child 
 their shepherd-offerings of eggs and cheese, while the 
 great and noble brought precious tribute, as repre- 
 senting the Magi of the East. 
 
 The primitive Passion drama was nothing more than 
 the solemn lowering the crucifix on Good Friday, the 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 9 
 
 laying it away beneath the altar, and the raising it 
 again, with anthems of rejoicing, on the Resurrection 
 festival. Mr. Pollard has pointed out that a trace of 
 the old observance yet lingers in the custom of veil- 
 ing the crucifix from Holy Thursday to the first even- 
 song of Easter. But the hollowed place beneath the 
 altar did not long suffice, as the ritual became more 
 and more magnificent, for the reception of the cruci- 
 fix or of the gilded picture, or carven figure, sometimes 
 substituted in this ceremony for the crucifix. Tem- 
 porary sepulchres of wood were built in arched re- 
 cesses of the chancel wall, on the north, and by the 
 fourteenth century these in turn gave way, in many 
 churches both of England and the Continent, to per- 
 manent structures of stone. An interesting record 
 remains of Durham : — 
 
 "Within the church of Durham, upon Good Friday, 
 there was a marvellous solemn service, in which service 
 time, after the Passion was sung, two of the eldest monks 
 took a goodly large crucifix all of gold of the semblance of 
 our Saviour Christ, nailed upon the Cross. . . . The ser- 
 vice being ended, the said two monks carried the Cross to 
 the Sepulchre with great reverence (which Sepulchre was 
 set up that morning on the north side of the choir, nigh 
 unto the High Altar, before the service time) and there 
 did lay it within the said Sepulchre with great devotion." 
 
 Upon these sepulchres was lavished rich beauty 
 of carving and of colour. The sleeping soldiers, their 
 
IO THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 weapons drooping in their hands, were carved upon 
 the lower portion, and upon the upper the hovering 
 figures of attendant angels. The sepulchre was 
 guarded during the night preceding Easter Sunday 
 by some officer of the church, who was duly paid 
 for his vigil. So late as 1558, the "accompts " of St. 
 Helen's, Abingdon, contain the following items : — 
 
 "Payde for making the sepulture, 10s." 
 " For peynting the same sepulture, 3s." 
 " For stones, and other charges about it, 4s. 6d." 
 "To the sexton for meat and drink, and watching the 
 sepulture, according to custom, 2 2d." 
 
 The black-robed bier that stands in the choir of 
 Roman churches during Lent, with the mournful 
 ritual of Good Friday, and such permanent church 
 decorations as the artificial mound at Antwerp, a 
 miniature Calvary crowned with its three crucifixes, 
 help us understand how the early Passion Plays 
 were fostered. Still in the chapel of the Vatican, 
 on Good Friday, after the reading of the Old Testa- 
 ment prophecies, the Passion from the Gospel of 
 John is sung with voices disposed as in an oratorio, 
 the tenor taking the part of Christ, the bass of 
 Pilate, while choruses of the priests, of the soldiers, 
 of the people, are interspersed with the evangelical 
 narrative in recitative. 
 
 Roman missals of the present day still retain the 
 following dramatic colloquy, which, originally sung 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. n 
 
 with appropriate action by two choirmen represent- 
 ing SS. Peter and John and by three others person- 
 ating the three Marys, is now rendered musically, 
 without action, by the basses and trebles. 
 
 Apostoli. Die nobis, Maria, 
 
 Quid vidisti in via. 
 Prima Maria. Sepulchrum Christi viventis 
 Et gloriam resurgentis. 
 Secunda Maria. Angelicos testes 
 
 Sudarium et vestes. 
 Tertia Maria. Surrexit Christus spes mea, 
 Praecedit vos in Galilaeam. 
 Apostoli. Credendum est magis soli 1 Omitted in 
 Mariae veraci ' modern missals. 
 
 Quam Judaeorum i Found in old 
 
 Pravae cohorti. J York missaL 
 
 Omnes. Scimus Christum surrexisse 
 A mortuis vere. 
 Tu nobis, victor Rex, miserere. 
 
 The old liturgical dramas, played in the churches, 
 with priests for actors and worshippers for audience, 
 were slow to break away from their intimate con- 
 nection with the service. Even in the thirteenth 
 century and in the case of a somewhat elaborate 
 Good Friday drama, written partly in Latin and 
 partly in the German vernacular, the play appears 
 to be still blended with the liturgy, one stage direc- 
 tion enjoining upon the Virgin that she, after con- 
 cluding her chant of lamentation over the crucified 
 
12 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Christ, should sit down quietly, for an hour, and 
 then arise and play again. No part of the play 
 was going on meanwhile, and it would obviously 
 have been an appropriate period for continuing the 
 service, invested, from the recent representation of 
 the Passion, with peculiar solemnity. 
 
 If we would look upon one of these primitive 
 dramas, so unconscious of its own dramatic nature 
 and dramatic destiny, we must thread our way 
 through blossomed English lanes and enter the 
 grateful cool of the high-arched cathedral. About 
 us is a motley multitude, — nobles in scarlet hose 
 and tunics of cloth of gold, ladies in bright-hued 
 trailing gowns with floating sleeves and richly 
 embroidered girdles, rainbow-vested children patter- 
 ing along in blue and yellow shoes, as if stained 
 from their treading among the violets and prim- 
 roses, and peasant groups in coarser stuffs Of ruder 
 shape and duller tint. Yet there is colour every- 
 where, the raiment of the worshippers almost seem- 
 ing to catch the broken lights from the great 
 windows that gleam like marvellous jewels east and 
 west and forth from shadowy aisles. And the well- 
 wrought stone of capital and canopy and crocket 
 has tints of russet and of buff, and the walls are 
 fairly frescoed, and statues, coloured to the look of 
 life, repose on the gem-set tombs of bishops and 
 of princes. It is an age of art, an era of percep- 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINP PLAYS. 13 
 
 tion and of feeling. The trooping multitude brings 
 eyes and ears all sensitive and eager. The very 
 influences of the sacred place quicken the aesthetic 
 craving. These mediaeval church-goers, even the 
 meagre and the ragged, long for a service vivid, 
 exquisite, aglow with life and beauty. But the sci- 
 entific and philosophic faculties are not yet hungry. 
 The mental world of these thought-children is peo- 
 pled by angels, saints, and devils in company with 
 ghosts, fairies, and hobgoblins. Of these the devil 
 is undoubtedly the favourite, calling out half-terrified 
 interest and half-triumphant respect. It is the devil 
 who figures most conspicuously in carving and in 
 speech. Perhaps in this very Easter congregation 
 kneels the haughty dame whose sweeping robe called 
 out the satire of a bitter-tongued old monk : — 
 
 " I have heard of a proud woman," he says, "who 
 wore a white dress with a long train, which, trailing 
 behind her, raised a dust even as far as the altar and 
 the crucifix. But as she left the church, and lifted up 
 her train on account of the dirt, a certain holy man 
 saw a devil laughing: and having adjured him to tell 
 why he laughed, the devil said, 'A companion of 
 mine was just now sitting on the train of that 
 woman, using it as if it were his chariot, but when 
 she lifted her train up, my companion was shaken off 
 into the dirt ; and that is why I was laughing.' " 
 
 After the mental coma produced by the shock of 
 
14 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 the barbaric invasion, after the blank of the Dark 
 Ages, Europe, leaving science in the main to the 
 Arabians, was content for a few centuries to busy 
 herself in re-sharpening her dulled intellects on that 
 curious, ingenious, ever-turning, and never-arriving 
 grindstone, scholastic philosophy. The work was 
 slowly and thoroughly done, wit waxed keen again, 
 and when the passion for truth re-awakened, the 
 instrument was ready. But meanwhile sensation, 
 not reason, ruled high and low alike. Rich and 
 poor pressed side by side to gaze upon the pigeon 
 plume that was exhibited as a veritable feather of 
 the Holy Ghost. Wounds were treated by anoint- 
 ing the swords that had inflicted them. Every 
 superstition and every folly had almost unrestricted 
 sway. Illiterate, illogical, — out of this mediaeval 
 Europe what good may come ? The Gothic cathe- 
 dral came, and in its heart the nascent Gothic drama. 
 But we were proposing to attend the Easter ser- 
 vice with the gayly attired worshippers in this 
 stately English minster. White-robed monks fill the 
 dim, mysterious choir, the altar is heavily draped 
 with black, the golden crucifix, thick set with jewels, 
 is missing from its place, but on the north of the 
 chancel we see the Easter sepulchre with the stone 
 rolled away from the door. The solemn ritual of the 
 Mass proceeds in wonted fashion, with fragrance of 
 incense, with silver sound of bell, with kneelings 
 
PASS/0 A r PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 15 
 
 and uprisings, with processional pomp and awful 
 adoration, and over all the glory of the chant. But 
 when, after a preparatory chorus of the prophets 
 answered by a chorus of the church, there is reached 
 that point in the service whereat the tender story 
 of the Marys coming to the sepulchre was of old 
 time rendered as an anthem, three choristers in 
 long white stoles, bearing perfume-breathing censers, 
 step forth from the singing band and walk slowly, 
 with groping motions and dirge-like music, toward 
 the north of the chancel. As they near the tomb, 
 with gesture of surprise to see the open door, other 
 white-raimented figures, with palm-branches in hand, 
 rise from the mouth of the sepulchre to meet them, 
 singing in sweet, high notes: — 
 
 "Quern quseritis in sepulchro, O Christicolae ? " 
 
 The Marys make answer in softer, tremulous 
 tone : — 
 
 " Jesum Nazarenum crucifixum, O coelicolae ! " 
 
 And the angels respond with victorious ca- 
 dence : — 
 
 " Non est hie, surrexit sicut praedixerat ; 
 Ite, nuntiate quia surrexit de sepulchro." 
 
 In obedience to the gesture of the angels, the 
 Marys stoop to the opening of the tomb, draw 
 forth the linen wrappings, and lifting these in sight 
 
1 6 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 of all the people, in token of that garment of death 
 which the risen Christ has put off from him, turn 
 to the chorus with exultant song : — 
 
 "Dominus surrexit de sepulchro ! Alleluia ! " 
 
 Then the Te Deum, rolling forth from all that 
 multitude in impetuous thanksgiving, floods choir, 
 nave, and transepts, the worshippers clasp one 
 another, with tears raining down their faces, the 
 black draperies are borne away, the altar glistens 
 again in gold and rich embroidery, the shining 
 crucifix is lifted to its place, and, simple as the 
 representation has been, even the little lad in prim- 
 rose shoes will never forget the service, nor the thrill 
 of Easter joy in his own soul. 
 
 There are a few selfish moments, in which the 
 people press tumultuously toward the carven choir- 
 screen, in the belief that eyes which may behold the 
 Easter elevation of the crucifix shall not close in 
 death for the year to come ; but, as the tide ebbs, 
 and the throng pours out into the sunshine, the living 
 picture has done for them what no dogma, no argu- 
 ment, no philosophic analysis, would have had the 
 power to do, and in devout rejoicing, neighbour 
 greets neighbour with the sacred words, "The Lord 
 is risen ! " 
 
 From brief dramatic actions, so blended with the 
 service, there soon arose more extended and more 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. \J 
 
 elaborate Latin plays, that were represented, often 
 quite by themselves, in the churches, on the ap- 
 propriate festivals. The music of the former was 
 merely that of the liturgical chant, save that special 
 melodies were necessarily added where the dialogue 
 exceeded the limits of the liturgical text. The latter 
 had music composed expressly for them, even for 
 those parts of the text included in the liturgy ; 
 and various stringed instruments were introduced 
 to supplement the organ. The words set for God 
 were sometimes rendered by three voices, — tenor, 
 bass, and alto, — to signify the threefold nature. 
 The old Latin hymns, many of them so luxuriously 
 soft and mellifluous, so rich in sensuous imagery, 
 played a leading part in these primitive oratorios. 
 
 The literary antiquities of England are not so 
 fortunate as to include any specimens of the Latin 
 liturgical drama ; but one has survived in Holland, 
 thirteen in Germany, and fourteen in France. From 
 the French collection I paraphrase one of the sim- 
 plest, a Christmas play, whose manuscript, gayly 
 written in red and blue and brown, dates from the 
 end of the thirteenth century. It is entitled 
 
 The Shepherds. 
 
 On the holy Christmas Eve, after the Te Deum, 
 let the angel take his place, announce that Christ 
 is born, and utter these words : — 
 
1 8 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 " Fear not ; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of 
 great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is 
 born this day in the city of David a Saviour. And this 
 shall be a sign unto you, — ye shall find the babe wrapped 
 in swaddling-clothes, lying in a manger." 
 
 Here let seven choir-boys, standing in the gallery 
 above, chant : — 
 
 " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, 
 goodwill to men." 
 
 On hearing the song, let the shepherds move 
 toward the manger, singing this response : — 
 
 " Glory in the highest ! 
 
 Peace to the human race ! 
 Earth is linked to Heaven 
 By reconciling grace ! 
 
 " God the reconciler 
 Bows to human ban, 
 That into the gates of Paradise 
 May enter sinful man ! 
 
 Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 
 
 " Let us go and see if so 
 
 The very God hath willed. 
 
 Let us go, that we may know 
 
 If the promise be fulfilled. 
 
 " A baby cries in Bethlehem 
 Beneath the starry night. 
 The ancient adversary hears 
 And quakes for deadly fright. 
 
PASS /ON PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 19 
 
 " Let us come, oh, let us come 
 Where the Lord of all 
 With maiden mother makes his home 
 In an ox's stall." 
 
 Then let the shepherds, carrying crooks in their 
 hands, walk through the midst of the choristers, 
 close up to the Bethlehem, chanting as they go : — 
 
 " Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing 
 which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known 
 unto us." 
 
 As they draw near, two choristers, being in the 
 stall as nursing-women, shall chant : — 
 
 "Tell, O shepherds, whom seek ye in the manger." 
 
 Let the shepherds make answer : — 
 
 " Christ the Lord and Saviour, a child wrapt in swad- 
 dling-clothes, even as the angel said." 
 
 Thereat the nursing-women, drawing aside a cur- 
 tain, shall reveal the child, chanting in their turn : — 
 
 " Behold the little one with Mary his mother ! Behold 
 him of whom long since the prophet Isaiah did tell ! " 
 
 Here let the chorus of choir-boys point out the 
 mother, chanting : — 
 
 " Behold, a virgin shall conceive and shall bear a son ; 
 but go ye and announce that the Christ is born." 
 
20 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Then should the shepherds bow themselves before 
 the Virgin, singing thus : — 
 
 " Hail, O hail, all peerless maiden ! 
 Thine enclasping arm is laden 
 With a child whose ages number 
 
 God's eternity. 
 Let us worship him in slumber 
 
 On his mother's knee. 
 
 " Mary, by thy mediation 
 Grant our sinful souls salvation ! 
 Though as wheat the devil sift us, 
 
 Hold us in thy sight, 
 That thy son at last may lift us 
 
 To his blessed light ! " 
 
 And now that the child is clearly shown, let the 
 shepherds bow themselves before him ; then let them 
 turn to the chorus, chanting : — 
 
 " Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Now we know for a surety that 
 upon earth is born the Christ, in whose praise sing ye all 
 with the prophets, saying : " 
 
 And here, at once, let the Mass be begun, and 
 let the shepherds lead the choir, and chant the 
 Gloria in Excelsis. 
 
 While the Passion Play was thus generated in 
 the very heart of the holy service, the church proces- 
 sions were unconsciously working with the Passion 
 Play to produce what may best be designated as 
 
PASS/ON PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 21 
 
 Saint Plays. The summer festival of Corpus Christi, 
 a feast founded by Pope Urban IV., in honour of 
 the Sacred Host, in 1264, and universally accepted 
 by 131 1, was primarily a day of magnificent church 
 parades, which contributed generously to the de- 
 velopment of the religious drama. For it was not 
 enough to carry in these processions images of the 
 Virgin and pictures of the saints, but living copies 
 of the holy personages, often gorgeously attired, and 
 always bearing some explanatory emblem, — St. An- 
 drew, his cross, the angel Gabriel, a lily, — walked in 
 the midst, and received due homage from the gazing 
 throngs. Here Adam and Eve would pass, lifting 
 between them the Tree of Knowledge ; and here 
 John the Baptist leading a lamb ; there St. George 
 on his war-horse, trailing after him the green-scaled, 
 gilt-hoofed body of the slain Dragon ; or red-bearded 
 Judas, bending beneath the weight of his money-bag, 
 and closely followed by the horned and blackened 
 Devil, considerately bringing along the gallows. 
 
 In France, the Corpus Christi pageants, which 
 were very elaborate, never yielded to the spoken 
 drama, but this one feast was kept sacred to proces- 
 sion and dumb show. /In Merrie England, Corpus 
 Christi failed to maintam—to the end its purely pro- 
 cessional character, but there was no lack of dramatic 
 pageantry. The months of the year were counted off 
 by the half-pagan, half-Christian ceremonies of the 
 
22 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 successive holidays, — hawks and hounds at Michael- 
 mas, tricksy jests at Hallowe'en, feasting at Harvest 
 Home, Yuletide revels under the sway of the jolly 
 Lord of Misrule, bear-baiting and cock-fighting on 
 Shrove Tuesday, Robin Hood shows on Mayday, and 
 on the Eve of St. John the Baptist bonfires, torches, 
 and cressets, and the setting of the Midsummer 
 Watch. Even the palate helped keep track of the 
 seasons by the Easter buns and the Whitsuntide 
 roast lamb, the Christmas plum-pudding, and the New 
 Year wassail bowl. And very charmingly were the 
 changes of the sun marked by the sylvan adornments 
 of the house. 
 
 " Down with the rosemary and bayes, 
 Down with the mistletoe ; 
 Instead of holly, now up-raise 
 The greener box, for show. 
 
 u The holly hitherto did sway ; 
 Let box now domineere ; 
 Untill the dancing Easter-day, 
 Or Easter's eve appeare. 
 
 " Then youthfull box which now hath grace, 
 Your houses to renew ; 
 Grown old, surrender must his place, 
 Unto the crisped yew. 
 
 " When yew is out, then birch comes in, 
 And many flowers beside ; 
 Both of a fresh and fragrant kinne 
 To honor Whitsuntide. 
 
PASS 10 IV PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 23 
 
 " Green rushes then, and sweetest bents, 
 With cooler oken boughs, 
 Come in for comely ornaments 
 To re-adorn the house." 
 
 These manifold English pastimes, so largely a sur- 
 vival from heathen rites, were fostered by the Roman 
 Church until holy days passed into holidays, and soul 
 and sense kept festival together. England was 
 wonted to take her merry-makes as a gift from the 
 hand of Religion. A doggerel description of the fes- 
 tival of Corpus Christi, as observed in London, drawn 
 though it is by the grudging hand of an Elizabethan 
 Protestant, pictures the brightness and variety of that 
 none the less solemn procession. 
 
 " There doth ensue the solemne feast of Corpus Christi Day, — 
 Who then can shewe their wicked use, and fonde and fool- 
 ish play? 
 The hallowed bread, with worship great, in silver Pix they 
 
 beare 
 About the Church, or in the Citie, passing here and theare. 
 His armes that beares the same, two of the welthiest men 
 
 do holde, 
 And over him a Canopey of silke and cloth of golde 
 Foure others use to beare aloufe, least that some filthie thing 
 Should fall from hie, or some mad bird her doung thereon 
 
 should fling. 
 Christes passion here derided is, with sundrie maskes and 
 
 playes. 
 Faire Ursley, with hir maydens all, doth passe amid the 
 wayes. 
 
24 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 And, valiant George, with speare thou killed the dreadful 
 
 dragon here, 
 The Devil's house is drawne about, wherein there doth 
 
 appere 
 A wondrous sort of damned sprites, with foule and feareful 
 
 looke, 
 Great Christopher doth wade and passe with Christ amid 
 
 the brooke : 
 Sebastian full of feathred shaftes, the dint of dart doth feele. 
 There walketh Kathren, with hir sworde in hande, and 
 
 cruel wheele : 
 The Challis and the singing Cake with Barbara is led, 
 And sundrie other pageants playde, in worship of this bred, 
 That please the foolish people well ; what should I stande 
 
 upon 
 Their Banners, Crosses, Candlesticks and reliques many 
 
 on, 
 Their Cuppes, and carved Images, that Priestes, with 
 
 count'nance hie, 
 Or rude and common people, beare about full solemnlie ? 
 Saint John before the bread doth go, and poynting towardes 
 
 him, 
 Doth shew the same to be the Lambe that takes away our 
 
 sinne, 
 On whome two clad in Angels' shape do sundrie flowres 
 
 fling, 
 A number great of sacring Belles with pleasant sound doe 
 
 ring. 
 The common wayes with bowes are strawde, and every 
 
 street beside, 
 And to the walles and windowes all, are boughes and 
 
 brannches tide, 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SA/NP PLAYS. 25 
 
 The monkes in every place do roame, the Nonnes abrode 
 
 are sent, 
 The Priestes and schoolmen lowde do rore, some use the 
 
 instrument. 
 The stranger passing through the streete, upon his knees 
 
 doe fall : 
 And earnestly upon this bread, as on his God, doth call. 
 For why, they counte it for their Lorde, and that he doth 
 
 not take 
 The forme of flesh, but nature now of breade that we do 
 
 bake." 
 
 These church processions had a double dramatic 
 influence, promoting, on the one hand, the develop- 
 ment of secular pageantry, which was so prominent a 
 feature of English life under the early kings, and, in- 
 deed, through the day of the Tudors, passing under 
 the Stuarts into the gorgeous masque ; and, on the 
 other hand, by their personations of sacred charac- 
 ters, yielding fresh impetus to the growth of the 
 religious drama. 
 
 The earliest play performed in England, of which 
 we have any record by name, is the Lucius dc S. 
 Katharina,) represented at Dunstable, very early in 
 the twelfth century, and perhaps written in French, 
 instead of Latin, its author being a Norman scholar, 
 one Geoffrey, a member of the University of Paris, 
 then resident in England. The question of its lan- 
 guage must remain undecided, however, as the play 
 is lost. But there may well have been some popular 
 
26 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 element in it to trouble the conscience of the play- 
 wright, for his house taking fire and burning down 
 the night after the representation, a clear sign of 
 celestial displeasure, "he made himself," in the words 
 of the old chronicler, a " holocaust," or propitiatory 
 sacrifice, and took religious orders straightway, be- 
 coming, before he died, Abbot of St. Albans. Ac- 
 cording to the chronicle, a play like this was nothing 
 new in England, but " de consuetudine magistrorum 
 et scholarum." This testimony is confirmed by a 
 few lines from Fitzstephen's Life of TJiomas a Becket, 
 written in the last quarter of the same century, the 
 twelfth. Here, in a description of the metropolis, 
 occurs the passage : " London, in lieu of the ancient 
 shows of the theatre and the entertainments of the 
 stage, has exhibitions of holier character, either rep- 
 resentations of those miracles which holy confessors 
 have wrought, or representations of those agonies 
 through which the courage of the martyrs has shone 
 bright." 
 
 The mention here is of Saint Plays, which would 
 naturally follow close on the original Passion Plays ; 
 for what could be more simple, after dramatic repre- 
 sentation had once been introduced, than that, on 
 the feast day of some Christian hero, whose martyr- 
 dom was stained in window, carved in canopy, and 
 moulded in bas-relief, breathing figures should yet 
 more vividly copy in action the story already before 
 
PASS 10 IV PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 2 J 
 
 the eyes of the worshippers ? Such living tableaux, 
 pantomimes, and plays suitably illustrated the medi- 
 aeval homily, which was not the tracing of an 
 argument nor urging of a plea, but primarily the 
 telling of a story. The mediaeval preacher improved 
 a saint-day by relating the usually apocryphal biog- 
 raphy of the saint. But the plastic art must be 
 held in the main responsible for tempting the 
 drama to this extension of its sphere. It was as 
 if the chiselled, painted saint himself, as a French 
 savant has suggested, stepped down for an hour 
 from marble niche or glowing window to play his 
 life-drama once again in the cathedral nave, — for 
 the Saint Plays did not venture within the sacred 
 choir, but established themselves in the great body 
 of the church, in the very midst of the crowding 
 worshippers. 
 
 We find in England, in the earlier half of the 
 twelfth century, three Latin plays, composed by 
 Hilarius, an Englishman of French education, one of 
 the many youths who flocked to the reed hut in the 
 desert to learn scholastic philosophy of the famous 
 Abelard. Of these dramas one, apparently a Christ- 
 mas play, deals with the story of Daniel, another 
 with the raising of Lazarus, and the third with a 
 miracle of St. Nicholas, then, as now, a saint of wide 
 and well-deserved popularity, the protector of the 
 weak against the strong, and hence the peculiar 
 
28 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 patron of the young, especially of little children, 
 dowerless maidens, and orphans. Mrs. Jameson 
 avers that no other saint in the calendar has so 
 many churches, chapels, and altars erected to him, 
 the Greek church even exceeding the Latin in zeal 
 to do him honour. Of all the legends that cluster 
 about his name, that one most popular in the Middle 
 Ages, although passed over by Hilarius in favour of 
 another, forms the subject of one of the Saint Plays 
 preserved in France, the manuscript bearing date of 
 the twelfth century. 
 
 This play, which will serve as well as any for 
 purposes of illustration, was probably introduced as 
 an interlude into the matins or vespers of St. 
 Nicholas' day. The plot is simplicity itself, in- 
 volving but little action, and presenting three times 
 over what is dramatically the same situation. A 
 nobleman of a rueful countenance, accompanied by 
 three maiden daughters, appears before the audi- 
 ence, and proceeds to bewail in sing-song Latin 
 verses, the woes of poverty. 
 
 " My joy is turned to sorrow, my laughter to a sigh. 
 What wealth was ours in happy years, those happy years 
 gone by ! 
 
 Alack, alack the day ! 
 The pleasures of this mortal life have vanished quite away." 
 
 The maidens strive in vain to comfort their de- 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 29 
 
 spondent parent, who obstinately refuses consola- 
 tion : — 
 
 " Once so rich, and now poorest of all, 
 Finding no solace by night nor by day, 
 Oh, I must suffer whatever befall, 
 
 Bearing my burden as well as I may." 
 
 The eldest daughter, moved by these incessant 
 lamentations, desperately offers to devote herself to 
 an infamous life, that her father and sisters may be 
 saved from starvation. But scarcely have the words 
 left her lips, when a heavy purse of gold is thrown 
 by an unseen hand at the feet of the father, whose 
 spirits instantaneously rise to the occasion : — 
 
 " Oh, my daughters, be happy with me ! 
 
 The time of our trouble is over and spent, 
 For bountiful gold on the pavement I see, 
 Enough to suffice for our livelong content." 
 
 While the daughters are devoutly singing a psalm 
 of thanksgiving, who should appear but a would-be 
 son-in-law, a complacent young noble, who, eying 
 the shining purse, introduces himself with not the 
 faintest trace of embarrassment ! 
 
 " I am a man of record clear, 
 A man of well-approved life, 
 And I would make your daughter dear 
 My lawful wife." 
 
30 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 The father, whose behaviour at this point is more 
 modern than might be expected, refers the proposi- 
 tion to the lady. 
 
 " Declare, my child, if you will wed 
 This gallant youth, all gently bred, 
 And handsome too." 
 
 The maiden, so spirited a moment before, responds 
 with conventional meekness. 
 
 " Be that, dear sir, as you shall say. 
 I am your child to give away 
 As pleases you." 
 
 The father benignantly places her hand in the 
 hand of the wooer, and bestows the purse of gold 
 as her dowry, — a most inconsiderate action, it 
 would seem ; for no sooner have the twain departed, 
 than he turns despairingly toward his two remaining 
 children, and bewails his extremity of need in the 
 very stanzas used before. The second daughter, 
 although she has no hope to suggest, entreats her 
 father not to sacrifice her to his necessity, but to 
 endure all earthly suffering, rather than incur eternal 
 punishment for sin. As she concludes her persua- 
 sions, again a purse of gold drops at the father's 
 feet, again an opportune wooer presents himself, 
 with the very words of his predecessor upon his 
 lips, and the same dialogue as before takes place be- 
 tween the complaisant sire and the demure maiden. 
 
PASSION PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 31 
 
 The second purse of gold is given as dowry by this 
 hopelessly improvident parent, who at once resumes 
 his distressful chant more lustily than ever. But 
 the third daughter has gained wisdom through these 
 successive experiences, and she not only declines 
 to sacrifice herself, but bids her father trust in God 
 for deliverance. 
 
 " For in Holy Writ are we clearly taught 
 That God will never forsake his own, 
 But for those who love him are marvels wrought, 
 Wine of water and bread of stone." 
 
 At this point is heard the happy thump of the 
 third purse of gold on the church pavement, and 
 immediately after, to the enthusiastic joy of the 
 audience, appears St. Nicholas himself, a bishop of 
 amiable countenance, attired in gorgeous vestments. 
 The enraptured father falls at his feet, the saint 
 reveals his name, the daughter blesses God, the 
 prospective son-in-law is not behindhand, the third 
 betrothal takes place, the third dowry is bestowed, 
 and the father, unmindful as ever of his own empty 
 pockets, leads the choristers in a chant of praise 
 to good St. Nicholas. 
 
 We can hardly call the Saint Plays a dramatic 
 advance upon the Passion Plays, nor a distinct link 
 in the chain of evolution. They are rather an off- 
 shoot, a side-growth, gaining in freedom and origi- 
 
32 
 
 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 nality, in that their less sacred material permitted 
 some license on the part of the poet, but with the 
 loss of the great theme losing heavily in dignity 
 and beauty and essential dramatic quality. And yet, 
 indirectly, they contributed to the development of 
 religious drama through its original channel. For, 
 as the Saint Plays grew to be more and more a 
 feature of church festivals, new impetus was given 
 to the Passion Plays, which gradually extended back, 
 filling the gap between the Easter play and the 
 Christmas play, through the life of our Lord, as if 
 to include that, too, in the work of redemption ; and 
 further yet, back to the prophets and patriarchs who 
 foretold and foreshadowed that life ; back, still, to 
 the fall of Adam, which made that atonement need- 
 ful ; back, still, to the fall of Lucifer, who wrought 
 the fall of Adam. The Passion Play reached for- 
 ward, too, from Easter morning to Ascension morn- 
 ing, — then to the Second Coming and the Judgment. 
 There seems to have been at work, in all this, a 
 dim sense of connecting first cause with final effect, 
 of setting the Tree of Knowledge over against the 
 Tree of Life. 
 
 The earliest manuscript yet discovered giving any 
 sequence of Scripture plays dates from the twelfth 
 century, and was preserved in France, at Tours. 
 In this play there occurs, for the first time, mention 
 of the sta<re as erected outside the church door, 
 
PASS /OAT PLAYS AND SAINT PLAYS. 33 
 
 God being represented, on descending from heaven, 
 as coming out of the church. There is here some 
 vivacity of dialogue, but the hymns of the choristers 
 are still interblent with the scenes of the drama. 
 None the less, this removal of the stage to the 
 churchyard is of great significance. The liturgical 
 Easter dramas were acted in the Holy of Holies, 
 in the heart of the choir, under the very shadow 
 of the High Altar. The Saint Plays slipped down 
 into the nave, where they could be more generally 
 witnessed ; and then came the eventful step by 
 which the theatre passed from under the vaulted 
 roof, through the sculptured portal, out into the 
 open air. .No sooner were the plays established in 
 the churchyards, than fairs, a new feature of medi- 
 aeval life, rose around them. All the out-lying 
 neighbourhood would naturally be attracted to a 
 reverend abbey, on the feast-day of its patron saint. 
 It is good sometimes to hear Mass ; sometimes to 
 confess to the Holy Fathers and be shriven ; some- 
 times to lay an offering before the shrine ; and 
 what better occasion than the great spring festival ? 
 Moreover, if there be rheumatism in the shoulder, 
 or sorrow in the heart, when would the saint be 
 more likely to work his miracles ? 
 
 With it all, there comes the longing for the con- 
 course, for the merry fellowship, and for the play 
 that is to be acted in the saint's honour, — the play 
 
34 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 that gives to toiling peasant-folk their one literary 
 delight, their one intellectual stimulus of the circling 
 year. So the people flocked from all about, clearing 
 their consciences, indulging their social and aesthetic 
 instincts, and soon learning, in those times of slow 
 and insecure travel and hence of infrequent assem- 
 blage, to avail themselves of the opportunity for 
 trade. But presently it came to pass that the ham- 
 let about the abbey could not house all the guests 
 of fair-time, so tents were pitched in the churchyard, 
 and the tents soon grew into booths. By and by 
 the churchyards were found too narrow to hold both 
 the living and the dead, and stage and booths moved 
 on together to large, open meadows, and then, at 
 last, to the market-towns, where a movable stage 
 was constructed that was wheeled from street to 
 street. But now the Latin liturgical drama, — Pas- 
 sion Play and Saint Play alike, — is left far behind, 
 and the English Miracle Cycle claims attention. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 
 
 The Miracle Play was the training-school of the 
 romantic drama. In England, during the slow lapse 
 of some five centuries, the Miracle, with its tremen- 
 dous theme and mighty religious passion, was pre- 
 paring the day of the Elizabethan stage, for despite 
 all crudities, prolixities, and absurdities of detail, 
 these English Miracle Cycles are nobly dramatic both 
 in range and spirit. In verbal expression they are 
 almost invariably weak and bald, but on the medi- 
 aeval scaffold-sta^e the actor counted for more than 
 the author, and the religious faith and feeling of the 
 audience filled in the homely lines with an unwritten 
 poetry. Within the vast extent of these cyclic 
 dramas, as within the length and breadth of the 
 great cathedrals, there was room, however, for 
 human life in all its various aspects. As the gro- 
 tesque found place among the beautiful carvings of 
 chapter-house and choir, so under the ample canopy 
 of the old Miracle Play comedy grew up by the very 
 
 35 
 
36 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 side of tragedy, bringing the theatre at once into 
 collision with the Church. 
 
 As long as the religious plays, although they had 
 departed from the sacred edifice, remained under 
 the exclusive control of the clergy, there was but 
 little loss in solemn and tragic effect. Even in 
 France, whose light and restless genius was the first 
 to introduce a farcical element into the Mysteries, 
 the Passion was acted with such intensity that, in 
 one instance at least, the young priest personating 
 Christ fainted on the cross. As for Germany, it is 
 recorded that the play of the Foolish Virgins, pre- 
 sented at Eisenach, Easter, 1322, in the royal park, 
 undermined with its horror the reason of the most 
 distinguished beholder, the Landgrave Frederic of 
 the Scarred Cheek. But it is not long before we 
 find the Church regarding these out-of-door plays, 
 whose language was fast slipping from Latin into 
 the vernacular, with a doubtful countenance. By 
 the middle of the thirteenth century, many of the 
 bishops were inclined to prohibit the clergy from 
 taking part in Mysteries set forth in " churchyards, 
 streets, or green places," permitting them to act 
 only in the liturgical dramas still played beneath 
 the consecrated roofs at Christmas and at Easter. 
 The way thus opened, a new class of actors came 
 speedily to the front. 
 
 The conditions of feudal life, and the exactions of 
 
MIR A CLE PL A J "S — DESCRIPTION. 3 7 
 
 the pleasure-loving Keltic temperament, had early 
 brought into existence, on the Continent, a class of 
 joculatorcs, men skilled in any or all of the several 
 arts of minstrelsy, story-telling, dancing, jugglery, 
 mimicry, and it was natural, — indeed, inevitable 
 that the Miracle Plays, decorously and piously per- 
 formed in the first instance by clergy within their 
 ecclesiastical domains, should, as soon as they had 
 ventured out from the "dim religious lisrht " of 
 choir and nave into the merry sunshine, be seized 
 upon by these profane imitators, who soon became 
 rivals and supplanters, too often turning what had 
 been illustrated Scripture into scandal and buf- 
 foonery. The Norman conquest naturally scattered 
 these Gallic joculatores or Jiistriones over England, 
 where they soon fell under ecclesiastical condemna- 
 tion. But here the clergy, aided by the fact that 
 these gay Frenchmen could not readily gain the ear 
 of the humiliated, angry Saxon peasantry, held their 
 own fairly well, and maintained the lead in the estab- 
 lishment of the national theatre. The priests, never- 
 theless, did not preserve their laurels as playwrights 
 and actors without condescending to some of the 
 tricks in trade of their opponents. 
 
 But by the time we find the English Miracle Cy- 
 cles in full career, the clergy have ceased to be the 
 customary actors. Yet the lower orders of the priest- 
 hood, however often forbidden by their ecclesiastical 
 
$S THE EX GUSH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 superiors, continued even clown to the sixteenth cen- 
 tury to hear some share in the representation of the 
 Miracles, of which they remained, almost without 
 exception, the authors and compilers. Regularly at 
 London, and undoubtedly often elsewhere, the Mira- 
 cles were performed by inferior personages attached 
 to the Church, especially the parish clerks, like 
 Chaucer's " Joly Absolon " of whom the poet says : — 
 
 " Sometime to show his lightness and maistrie, 
 He plaieth Herod on a scaffold hie." 
 
 These parish clerks of London, of whom "Joly 
 Absolon" is the immortal type, obtained in 1233 
 their charter as an harmonic guild and became a com- 
 pany of high repute, playing before Richard II., in 
 1390, and before Henry IV., in 1409, the performance 
 on this latter occasion covering a period of eight 
 days. But in many of the leading English towns, as 
 York, Chester, Coventry, the trading guilds, by the 
 close of the thirteenth century, had taken the task of 
 setting forth the Miracles upon themselves. The 
 conduct of these festivals was a matter of concern to 
 the city corporations, too. At York, for instance, 
 the council decreed in 1476 : " That yerely in the 
 tyme of lentyn there shall be called afore the maire 
 for the tyme beying iiij of the moste connyng discrete 
 and able players within this Citie, to serche, here, 
 and examen all the plaiers and plaies and pagentes 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 39 
 
 thrughoute all artificers belonging to Corpus Xt 1 Plaie. 
 And all suche as they shall fynde sufficiant in persone 
 and connyng, to the honour of the Citie and worship 
 of the saide Craftes, for to admitte and able ; and all 
 other insufrlciant personnes, either in connyng, voice, 
 or personne to discharge, ammove and avoide." 
 
 The best players being thus selected from among 
 the followers of each craft, preparations began at 
 once. Every guild became responsible for the 
 presentation of a single pageant, or scene, furnish- 
 ing its own movable stage, and meeting all the 
 expenses of the pageant from its own treasury. The 
 guilds acted as hosts to the entire neighbourhood, 
 who rewarded by childlike interest and responsive- 
 ness the generosity of their entertainers. Each 
 company appointed two pageant-masters, who con- 
 trolled the pageant-silver, a fund made up by contri- 
 butions from the members. The pageant-masters 
 also superintended all the arrangements of the 
 play, and trained the performers. One cannot think 
 of these histrionic tradesmen without an amused 
 remembrance of Shakespeare's irresistible burlesque, 
 though Bully Bottom and his fellows represent a 
 later stage of citizen actorship. When the arrange- 
 ments for the play were perfected, a special "bayn," 
 or crier, was sent around the city, usually twice, to 
 announce it. The form of proclamation for the 
 Corpus Christi plays, at York, ran as follows : — 
 
4 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 " Proclamacio ludi corporis cristi facienda in virgilia cor- 
 poris christi. 
 
 " Oiez, &c. We comand of ye kynges behalve and ye 
 Mair and ye shirefs of yis Citee yat no mann go armed in 
 yis Citee with swerdes ne with Carlill-axes, ne none other 
 defences in distorbaunce of ye kynges pees and ye play, or 
 hynderying of ye processioun of Corpore Christi, and yat 
 yai leve yare hernas in yare Ines, saufand knyghtes and 
 sqwyres of wirship yat awe have swerdes borne eftir yame, 
 of payne of forfaiture of yaire wapen and imprisonment . of 
 yaire bodys. And yat men yat brynges furth pacentes yat 
 yai play at the places yat is assigned yerfore and nowere 
 elles, of ye payne of forfaiture to be raysed yat is ordayned 
 yerfore, yat is to say xls. And yat menn of craftes and all 
 othir menn yat fyndes torches, yat yai come furth in array 
 and in ye manere as it has been used and customed before 
 yis time, noght haveyng wapen, careynge tapers of ye 
 pagentz. And officers yat ar keepers of the pees of payne 
 of forfaiture of yaire fraunchis and yaire bodyes to prison : 
 And all maner of craftmen yat bringeth furthe ther pageantez 
 in order and course by good players, well arayed and openly 
 spekyng, upon payn of lesyng of C.s to be paide to the 
 chambre without any pardon. And that every player that 
 shall play be redy in his pagiaunt at convenyant tyme, that 
 is to say, at the mydhowre betwix iiij th and Vth of the cloke 
 in the mornynge, and then all oyer pageantz fast followyng 
 ilk one after oyer as yer course is, without tarieng. Sub 
 pena facienda camere VI s. VIII d." 
 
 The division of scenes among the guilds is a curi- 
 ous and interesting matter. In the York pageants, 
 for instance, one can hardly think it is all by accident 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 41 
 
 that the plasterers were chosen for the representation 
 of the creation of the earth, the shipwrights for the 
 building of the ark, the fishmongers and mariners for 
 the voyage of the ark, the "goldbeters " and " mone- 
 makers " for the adoration of the gift-bringing Magi, 
 the vintners for the turning of the water into wine at 
 Cana, and the bakers for the last supper. Nor are 
 these all the examples that might be adduced, while, 
 on the other hand, in many cases, there seems to be 
 no such correspondence between the guild and the 
 pageant. 
 
 This term pageant was originally applied, in Eng- 
 land, to the movable platform which served as stage, 
 the name soon passing over from the framework to 
 the play exhibited upon it. The pageant scaffold was 
 a wooden erection, set on wheels and divided into 
 two stories, the lower serving as dressing-room, while 
 the upper was the stage proper. The following 
 words of Archdeacon Rogers, a sixteenth-century 
 witness of the Whitsun Plays at Chester, describes 
 clearly enough both the scaffold itself and the 
 method of procedure : — 
 
 " The maner of these playes were, every company had 
 his pagiant, w ch pagiante weare a high scafold with 2 
 rowmes, a higher and a lower, upon 4 wheeles. In the 
 lower they apparelled themselves, and in the higher rowrae 
 they played, beinge all open on the tope, that all behoulders 
 might heare and see them. The places where they played 
 
42 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 them was in every streete. They began first at the Abay 
 gates, and when the first pagiante was played, it was wheeled 
 to the highe crosse before the Mayor, and so to every 
 streete, and soe every streete had a pagiante playing before 
 them at one time, till all the pagiantes for the daye appointed 
 weare played, and when one pagiant was neere ended, worde 
 was broughte from streete to streete, that soe they might 
 come in place thereof, exceedinge orderly, and all the 
 streetes have their pagiants afore them all at one time playe- 
 inge togeather ; to se w'ch playes was great resorte, and also 
 scafolds and stages made in the streetes in those places 
 where they determined to play theire pagiantes." 
 
 The French scaffold was more elaborate, present- 
 ing three platforms, one above another, with a black 
 pit yawning beside the lowest. The highest platform 
 was reserved for God the Father, God the Son, the 
 Virgin Mary, and the angels. This was richly tapes- 
 tried and furnished with trees and an organ. The 
 second platform sufficed for saints, and the third 
 represented earth, the pit beside it standing for 
 " Hellmouthe," beheld as the gaping jaws, sometimes 
 worked so as to open and shut, of a hideous monster, 
 fondly supposed to resemble a whale. In Germany, 
 comparatively little care was bestowed upon acces- 
 sories. There heaven was located at one end of the 
 platform, raised by a few steps above the level which 
 represented earth, while, in some cases, at least, a 
 huge cask had to do duty as hell, the Devil leaping in 
 and out of this with as much agility as he could com- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 43 
 
 mand. Another cask, set upside down, served as the 
 Mount of Temptation or Transfiguration. 
 
 The difference between France and England in 
 the arrangement of the pageant-house, the English 
 scaffold presenting but one open stage, with the 
 story below curtained off as a green-room, and the 
 French scaffold exposing three stages, the respective 
 abodes of Deity and angels, of saints, and of men, was 
 instrumental in differentiating the role of devils in 
 the two countries. These personages, to be sure, had 
 their proper abode in hellmouth ; but whereas, in 
 England, the dragon-jaws emitted the devils only 
 when they had some dismal task to perform, in 
 France, while the scene of action was, for the time 
 being, on one of the upper stages, the devils were 
 accustomed to pop out of their prison, run across the 
 human stage, and even leap down among the audi- 
 ence, playing tricks and executing gambols. So the 
 French devils degenerated into drolls, while the Eng- 
 lish and German, though equally grotesque in appear- 
 ance, aimed at producing impressions of terror, rather 
 than of mirth. Into hellmouth, from which smoke 
 and flame continually arose, these English demons, 
 bristling with horsehair, and wearing beast heads, the 
 ugliest possible, — always a prominent item in the bill 
 of costs, — dragged with much mockery and show of 
 cruelty those souls whose black, red, and yellow coats, 
 suggestive of the fire that awaited them, indicated 
 
44 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 their fitness for such habitation. Souls destined for 
 heaven wore white coats and white hose, and the 
 angels, duly plumed, were resplendent in gold. The 
 high priests, Annas and Caiaphas, wore ecclesi- 
 astical robes, often borrowed from the church. The 
 Virgin and the other Marys wore crowns. Herod 
 was gay in blue satin gown, and gilt and silvered 
 helmet, with various Saracenic accoutrements, as 
 the crooked falchion. Pilate wore a green robe, 
 and carried a leather club stuffed with wool. The 
 tormentors of Christ wore jackets of black buck- 
 ram, painted over with nails and dice. Our Lord 
 was represented in a coat of white sheepskin, vari- 
 ously painted, with red sandals, the sandals of one 
 who had trodden the winepress, and gilt peruke 
 and beard. Gilt perukes and beards were worn by 
 all the apostles, also, and by other saints whom 
 the people were accustomed to see emblazoned on 
 church walls, or windows, with a halo about the 
 head. Judas was distinguished by his red beard 
 and yellow robe. The most striking costume was 
 that of the devil, who was as shaggy and beast-like 
 as possible, black, horned, clawed, with cloven feet 
 and a forked tail, and, sometimes, with pipes of burn- 
 ing gunpowder in his ears. 
 
 The bills of expense, which have been discovered 
 at Coventry and elsewhere, throw much light on the 
 stage accessories and wardrobes. In the lists of gar- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION: 45 
 
 ments provided for the principal characters, we come 
 upon some names among the dramatis personce that 
 the gospel reader would hardly expect, such as Pilate's 
 Son, Herod's Son, Bishops, Beadle, Mother of Death, 
 and Worms of Conscience. Records like the follow- 
 ing, too, though penned in all devout simplicity, fall 
 strangely on the modern ear. 
 
 Paid for a pair of gloves for God 2d. 
 
 Paid for four pair of angels' wings 2s. 8d. 
 
 Paid for nine and a half yards of buckram for the 
 
 souls' coats 7s. 
 
 Paid for ale when the players dress them .... 4d. 
 
 Paid for painting and making new hell head . . . i2d. 
 
 Paid for mending of hell head 6d. 
 
 Paid for keeping hell head 8d. 
 
 Paid for a pair of new hose and mending of the old 
 
 for the white souls i8d. 
 
 Paid for mending the garment of Jesus, and the 
 
 cross painting is. 3d. 
 
 Paid for a pound of hemp to mend the angels' heads 4d. 
 
 Paid for linen cloth for the angels' heads and Jesus' 
 
 hose, making in all 9d. 
 
 Paid for washing the lawn bands for the Saints in 
 
 the church 2d. 
 
 To Fawston for hanging Judas 4d. 
 
 To Fawston for cockcrowing iod. 
 
 Item : Painting of the world. 
 
 Item : Link for setting the world on fire. 
 
 Item : Girdle for God. 
 
 Item : For mending the demon's head. 
 
 ■o 
 
46 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Item : Chevrel (apparently peruke) for God. 
 
 Item : Two chevrels gilt for Jesus and Peter. 
 
 Item : A cloak for Pilate. 
 
 Item : Pollaxe for Pilate's son. 
 
 Item : To reward Mistress Grimsby for lending of her 
 
 gear to Pilate's wife. 
 Item : Divers necessaries for the trimming of the Father 
 
 of Heaven. 
 
 Among the stage effects we find : — 
 
 A gilded cross with a rope to draw it up and a curtain to 
 hang before it. 
 
 Scourges and a gilded pillar. 
 
 Trumpets and bagpipes. 
 
 A cord for Judas to hang himself. 
 
 Rock. Tomb. Spade. Rushes. Censers. Stars. Diadems. 
 
 Standard made of red buckram. 
 
 Starch to make a storm. 
 
 The barrel for the earthquake. 
 
 Pulpits for the angels. 
 
 But, however grotesque all this may seem to-day, 
 there is good reason for believing that the English 
 throngs drawn by these Pageants to the market-towns 
 on high church festivals looked and listened to their 
 aesthetic and spiritual edification. In F ranee, where 
 the performance of a series of Mysteries was under- 
 taken by the town, irrespective of the guilds, all the 
 people were eager to bear part in the representation, 
 regarding such acting as a religious service, to be 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 47 
 
 counted unto the actor for righteousness. A solemn 
 trumpet-call, le cri d?i jeu> would summon all who 
 might desire, for the glory of Christ, or the weal of 
 their own souls, to assist in the representation. The 
 volunteers placed in the hands of the magistrate a 
 signed paper, wherein they made oath, on pain of 
 death, or forfeiture of property, to study carefully the 
 role assigned, and to be promptly on hand on the day 
 of representation. Those of the ignorant rabble, who, 
 eager to show some grace to Christ, and win His 
 grace in return, flocked after the trumpet, were 
 massed as Israelites in the wilderness, or the mob 
 about the cross. Sometimes, half the town acted, 
 while the other half looked on, together with the 
 rustics of the outlying villages. But, even so, there 
 was no entrance fee, although gifts to aid in defray- 
 ing expenses were acceptable, not only on earth, but 
 in heaven, such gifts partaking of the nature of a re- 
 ligious offering. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding this truly devotional spirit, 
 the rude, laughter-loving tastes of the populace so 
 wrought upon the playwrights as to bring about the 
 introduction of certain distinctly comic episodes into 
 the sacred history. In the English cycles, the fun is 
 chiefly furnished, in the Old Testament plays, by the 
 buffoonery between Cain and his ploughboy, and by 
 the shrill insubordination of Noah's wife, when the 
 patriarch would persuade her to enter the ark ; while 
 
48 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 to the story of the Saviour's life and death, evidently 
 regarded then, as by the peasants of Oberammergau 
 to-day, in the light of solemn and heart-moving trag- 
 edy, a foil was afforded by the clownish talk and 
 actions of the shepherds. That this food for mirth 
 was sometimes of the coarsest should not be taken as 
 proving intentional irreverence on the part of players 
 or of hearers. It points to social rather than moral 
 causes. The conditions of family life for the lower 
 classes of the English, in the years when Chaucer 
 and Langland wrote, and Miracle Plays were in full 
 tide of popularity, precluded delicacy of manners or 
 of speech. 
 
 As a representative Miracle Cycle I would select 
 the Towneley Mysteries, sometimes styled the Wid- 
 kirk or Woodkirk Plays. The first of these two 
 names, for Widkirk and Woodkirk are essentially the 
 same word, is taken from Towneley Hall in Lan- 
 cashire, where the manuscript was preserved. The 
 second is derived from a vague tradition that this 
 old parchment volume before coming, at an unknown 
 date and under long-forgotten circumstances, into 
 possession of the Towneley family, belonged to the 
 "Abbey of Widkirk, near Wakefield, in the county 
 of York." No modern research has succeeded in trac- 
 ing any such abbey, or any place of that name in 
 York, or, indeed, anywhere in England ; but it appears 
 that about four miles from the old town once known 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION'. 49 
 
 as " Merry Wakefield," where plays would naturally 
 have been acted, there did exist a place called Wood- 
 kirk, which harboured, before the dissolution of the 
 monasteries, a small religious brotherhood, a cell of 
 Augustinian or Black Canons, subject to the flourish- 
 ing house of St. Oswald, at Nostel. The dialect of all 
 these Mysteries save four ("Processus Prophetarum," 
 " Pharao," "Caesar Augustus," "Annunciatio ") re- 
 veals a Yorkshire origin, one or two local allusions 
 occur, and the words " Wakefelde Barkers " (tanners), 
 "Glover Pageant," " Fysher Pageant," written over 
 three of the plays, would seem to warrant the conclu- 
 sion that these Mysteries were composed, or adapted 
 from a lost original, by the Wooclkirk monks and 
 acted by the trade-guilds of Wakefield at the fairs 
 which, as old charters show, were sometimes held on 
 occasion of high church festivals, in that town. 
 Each guild had a particular pageant assigned it for 
 representation, and, probably, no less than three days 
 were required to complete the series, which numbers 
 thirty plays in order, from the " Creation " to the 
 "Judgment Day," with two later additions, "Laza- 
 rus" and the "Hanging of Judas." These Mys- 
 teries, whose conjectural date is the fourteenth 
 century, or even earlier, are rude but often forceful 
 and vivacious in composition, familiar in style, dia- 
 lectical in diction, and enlivened at intervals by the 
 broadest kind of humour. 
 
50 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 We must imagine an open market-place, in the 
 centre of a mediaeval English town, — rows of quaint, 
 narrow, gabled houses, whose windows are alive with 
 faces, closing in the square, which is thronged by a 
 motley multitude, — Yorkshire rustics, green-clad 
 yeomen, young clerks and squires in many-coloured, 
 picturesque costumes, gowned and hooded friars, ker- 
 chiefed women, here and there a knight in glistening 
 mail, everywhere beggars, children, dogs, all pressing 
 toward the lofty stage adorned with crosses and 
 streamers, which rises in the centre of the scene. 
 On the upper platform, from whose edges rich drap- 
 eries, wrought with Christian emblems, fall to conceal 
 the dressing-room below, appears the white-vested, 
 golden-haired figure of the Creator, seated upon a 
 throne, and surrounded by His cherubim. He 
 
 speaks : — 
 
 " Ego sum Alpha et O, 
 I am the first and last also, 
 
 Oone God in mageste ; 
 Marvelose, of myght most, 
 Fader, and Sone, and Holy Ghost, 
 
 One God in Trinyte." 
 
 In this same abrupt, prentice-like measure the 
 Deity continues with assurances of His eternity, 
 omniscience and omnipotence, His firm determina- 
 tion to maintain all these, and, finally, with an 
 exceedingly succinct account of the creation, as 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 51 
 
 He performs it on the stage by aid of lanterns, 
 hawthorn branches, and wooden images of birds 
 and beasts. The conception of the creative process 
 is no less crude and childish than these illustrations 
 themselves ; the narrative is of the baldest, and the 
 grammatical construction absolutely ragged. But 
 as the cherubim break forth in a choral address 
 to God, we are aware of a lighter movement, a 
 freer fancy, and a distinct dramatic intent in the 
 introduction, somewhat precipitate though it seems, 
 of the praises of Lucifer. 
 
 " Oure Lord God in trynyte, 
 Myrth and lovyng be to the, 1 
 Myrth and lovyng over al thyng ; 
 For thou has made, with thi bidyng, 
 Heven, and erth, and alle that is, 
 And giffen us joy that never shalle mys. 
 Lord, thou art fulle mych 2 of myght, 
 That has maide Lucifer so bright. 
 We love the, 1 Lord, bright are we, 
 But none of us so bright as he. 
 He may well hight 3 Lucifer, 
 For luffy light that he doth bere." 
 
 This anthem has an intoxicating effect upon the 
 archangel's pride, and no sooner has God arisen 
 from His throne and begun to walk toward the 
 rear of the stage, than Lucifer usurps the vacant 
 
 1 thee. 2 much. 3 be called. 
 
52 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA 
 
 seat, appealing to his fellows to know if it does 
 not become him as well as the Creator. 
 
 " Say, fellows, how semys now me 
 To sit in seyte of trynyte ? 
 I am so bright of ich a lym, 1 
 
 I trow me seme as welle as hym." 
 
 But the angels divide upon this question, and Luci- 
 fer, proposing to display his powers still further, at- 
 tempts to fly off the stage and disastrously falls into 
 hellmouth, his adherents tumbling after. These bad 
 angels, who are henceforth designated as demons, and 
 who, perhaps, have torn off their outer robes of white 
 on alighting in the pit and revealed inner garments 
 black and ragged, raise cries of dismay and reproach. 
 
 "Alas, alas, and wele-wo ! 
 Lucifer, why felle thou so? 
 We, that were angels so fare, 
 And sat so hie above the ayere, 
 Now ar we waxen blak as any coylle." 
 
 The scene is presently transferred to the upper 
 stage. God re-enters, or advances from the back- 
 ground, and without offering the slightest comment 
 on past events, resumes His throne and tranquilly 
 proceeds with His interrupted task of creation. 
 Adam is moulded out of clay, and into him is 
 breathed the divine life. A rib is taken from his 
 
 1 every lineament. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 53 
 
 side and transformed into a helpmate for him. The 
 keeping of the garden is entrusted to the pair, 
 with strict injunction as to the forbidden tree. 
 
 Deus. Erthly bestes, that may crepe and go, 
 Bryng ye furth and wax ye mo, 
 
 I see that it is good ; 
 Now make we man to our liknes, 
 That shalle be keper of more and les, 
 
 Of fowles, and fysh in flood. 
 
 (Et tanget eum.) 
 Spreyte of life I in the blaw, 
 Good and ille both shalle thou knaw ; 
 
 Rise up, and stand bi me. 
 Alle that is in water or land, 
 It shalle bow unto thi hand, 
 
 And su fife ran shalle thou be ; 
 I gif the witt, I gif the strength, 
 Of alle thou sees, of brede and lengthe ; 
 
 Thou shalle be wonder wise. 
 Myrth and joy to have at wille, 
 Alle thi likyng to fulfille, 
 
 And dwelle in paradise. 
 This I make thi wonnyng playce, 1 
 Fulle of myrth and of solace, 
 
 And I seasse 2 the therin. 
 It is not good to be alone, 
 To walk here in this worthely wone, 3 
 
 In alle this welthly wyn 4 ; 
 Therfor, a rib I from the take, 
 
 1 dwelling-place. 2 establish. 3 dwelling. 
 
54 
 
 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Therof shalle be tfii make, 
 
 And be to thi helpyng. 
 Ye both to governe that here is, 
 And ever more to be in blis, 
 
 Ye wax in my blissyng. 
 Ye shalle have joye and blis therin, 
 While ye wille kepe you out of syn, 
 
 I say without lese. 1 
 Ryse up, myn angelle cherubyn, 
 Take and leyd theym both in, 
 
 And leyf them there in peasse. 
 {Tunc capit Cherubyn Adam per manum, et dicet eis 
 Dominus. ) 
 
 Here thou Adam, and Eve thi wife, 
 I forbede you the tre of life, 
 And I commaund, that it begat, 
 Take which ye wille, bot negh 2 not that. 
 Adam, if thou breke my rede, 
 Thou shalle dye a dulfulle 3 dede. 
 Cherubyn. Oure Lord, our God, thi wille be done ; 
 I shalle go with theym fulle sone. 
 For soth, my Lord, I shalle not sted 
 Tille I have theym theder led. 
 We thank the Lord, with fulle good chere, 
 That has maide man to be oure peere, 4 
 Com forth, Adam, I shalle the leyd, 
 Take tent to me, I shalle the reyd. 
 I rede the thynk how thou art wroght, 
 And luf my Lord in alle thi thoght, 
 That has maide the thrugh his wille, 
 Angels ordir to fulfille, 
 
 1 lies. 2 approach, 3 doleful. 4 companion. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 55 
 
 Many thynges he has the giffen, 
 
 And made the master of alle that lyffen, 
 
 He has forbed the bot a tre ; 
 
 Look that thou let it be, 
 
 For if thou breke his commaundment, 
 
 Thou skapys not bot thou be shent. 1 
 
 Weynd 2 here in to paradise, 
 
 And luke now that ye be wyse, 
 
 And kepe you vveile, for I must go 
 
 Unto my Lord, there I cam fro. 
 Adam. Almyghte Lord, I thank it the 
 
 That is, and was, and shalle be, 
 
 Of thy luf and of thi grace, 
 
 For now is here a mery place ; 
 
 Eve, my felow, how thynk the this? 
 Eve. A stede me thynk of joye and blis, 
 
 That God has giffen to the and me, 
 
 Withoutten ende ; blissyd be he. 
 Adam. Eve, felow, abide me thore, 
 
 For I wille go to viset more, 
 
 To se what trees that here been ; 
 
 Here are welle moo then we have seen, 
 
 Greses, and othere smalle floures, 
 
 That smelle mile swete, of seyre 3 colours. 
 
 Adam, thus overcome by his masculine curiosity, 
 leaves Eve unprotected, while he starts off on a tour 
 of exploration about his new domain. Even as he 
 departs, the menacing voice of the ruined archangel 
 rises from the fiery cavern, and although four leaves 
 
 1 punished. 2 wend. 3 several. 
 
56 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 of the manuscript are here torn away, we can easily 
 imagine the temptation and the fall as enacted by the 
 Wakefield tanners in the listening market-place. 
 
 The Eden scaffold is now drawn onward to the 
 head of the first street, where, although still so early 
 in the morning, an impatient concourse has been 
 waiting for an hour past. Before the recent specta- 
 tors have turned their eyes from the disappearing 
 platform, a second pageant-carriage, upon which is to 
 be enacted one of the liveliest miracles of the series, 
 rolls into the square. The audience greets this plat- 
 form, furnished and decorated by the glovers of 
 Wakefield, with vociferous applause, which is promptly 
 rebuked by the first character who steps out upon the 
 stage, a mirth-provoking personage, unknown to the 
 writer of Genesis, but familiar to mediaeval play- 
 goers under the title of Garcio, or Cain's ploughboy. 
 His saucy speech forms a rough prologue to the pag- 
 eant, which actually opens with the appearance of 
 Cain. The first murderer presents himself, not upon 
 the scaffold, but in a reserved space of ground at its 
 foot, where he is ploughing with a contrary team of 
 mingled horses and oxen, and cursing the boy for the 
 waywardness of the beasts. The boy, glorying in his 
 mischief, acknowledges that he has filled the cattle's 
 feeding-racks with stones, whereupon the ill-tempered 
 Yorkshire rustic deals him a fisticuff in the face, 
 straightway receiving as good as he sent. They are 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 57 
 
 in the midst of a tussle, when Abel enters, with 
 gentle words of greeting. 
 
 " God as he bothe may and can 
 Spede the, brothere, and thi man." 
 
 Cain's response is of the rudest insolence, but 
 Abel, deprecating his wrath, urges the surly plough- 
 man to go with him to sacrifice. Cain doggedly 
 maintains that he owes God nothing. 
 
 " When alle mens corne was fayre in feld 
 Then was myne not worthe an eld ; 
 When I should saw, 1 and wantyd seyde, 
 And of corne had mile grete neyde, 
 Then gaf he me none of his, 
 No more wille I gif hym of this." 
 
 But Abel's entreaty finally prevails, and Cain, 
 grumbling at every step, reluctantly follows his 
 brother out of the half-ploughed field, and up a hill, 
 which the scaffold represents. Here Abel offers his 
 sacrifice with reverent prayer, upon which breaks in 
 the harsh voice of Cain, his own address to God being 
 as blunt and gruff as his speech to his fellow-men. 
 The audience derives great delight from these defiant 
 orisons, and from the grudging fashion in which Cain 
 slowly selects the worst of his sheaves for the altar. 
 
 " But now begyn wille I then, 
 Syn I must nede my tend to bren. 2 
 
 1 sow. 2 tithe to bum. 
 
58 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Oone shefe, oone, and this makes two, 
 Bot nawder of thise may I forgo ; 
 Two, two, now this is thre, 
 Yei, this also shalle leif withe me ; 
 For I wille chose and best have, 
 This hold I thrift of alle this thrafe x ; 
 Wemo, wemo, foure, lo, here ! 
 Better groved 2 me no this yere. 
 At yere tyme I sew fare corn, 
 Yit was it siche when it was shorne, 
 Thystyls and breyrs yei grete plente, 
 And alle kyn wedes that myght be. 
 Foure shefes, foure • lo, this makes fyfe, 
 Deylle I fast thus long or I thrife, 
 Fyfe and sex, now this is seven, — 
 But this gettes never God of heven, 
 Nor none of thise foure, at my myghte, 
 Shalle never com in Godes sight. 
 Seven, seven, now this is aght." 
 
 But here Abel, piously shocked, interposes. 
 
 Abelle. Cain, brother, thou art not God betaght. 3 
 Cayn. We therfor, is it that I say? 
 
 For I wille not deyle my good away ; 
 
 Bot had I gyffen him this to teynd 
 
 Then wold thou say he were my freynd, 
 
 But I thynk not, bi my hode, 
 
 To departe so lightly fro my goode. 
 
 We, acht, acht, and neyn, and ten is this, 
 
 We, that may we best mys. 
 
 1 twenty-four sheaves. 2 grew. 3 submissive. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 59 
 
 Gif Him that that lighes thore ; 
 It goyse agans myn hart mile sore. 
 
 Abelle. Caine, of God me thynke thou has no drede. 
 Cayn. Now and He get more, the deville me spede, 
 As mych as oone reepe, 
 For that cam hym mile light cheap ; 
 
 For that, and this that lyys here, 
 Have cost me fulle dere \ 
 Or it was shorne, and broght in stak, 
 Had I many a wery bak \ 
 Therfor aske me no more of this, 
 For I have giffen that my wille is. 
 Abelle. Cain, I rede thou tend right 
 
 For drede of hym that sittes on hight. 
 
 And now Cain's fatal wrath begins to burn against 
 his brother. 
 
 Cayn. How that I tend, rek the never a deille, 
 
 Bot tend thi skabbid shepe wele ; 
 
 For if thou to my teynd tent take 
 
 It bese the wars for thi sake. 
 
 Thou wold I gaf hym this shefe, or this sheyfe, 
 
 Na nawder of thise two will I leife ; 
 
 Bot take this now, has he two, 
 
 And for my saulle now mot it go, 
 
 Bot it gos sore agans my wille, 
 
 And shal he like fulle ille. 
 Abelle. Cain, I reyde thou so teynd 
 
 That God of heven be thi freynd. 
 
60 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Cayn. My freynd? na, not bot if he wille ! 
 
 I did hym neveryit bot skille. 1 
 
 If he be never so my fo 
 
 I am avised gif hym no mo; 
 
 Bot channge thi conscience, as I do myn, 
 
 Yit teynd thou not thy mesel 2 swyne? 
 Abelle. If thou teynd right thou mon it fynde. 
 
 At this suggestion, with all that it implies, the 
 rage of Cain blazes hotter than before. 
 
 "s 
 
 Cayn. The deville hang the bi the nek ; 
 How that I teynd never thou rek. 
 Wille thou not yit hold thi peasse ? 
 Of this janglyng I reyde thou seasse. 
 And teynd I welle, or tend I ille, 
 Bere the even and speke bot skille. 
 Bot now syn thou has teyndid thyne, 
 Now wille I set fyr on myne. 
 We, out, haro, help to blaw ! 
 It wille not bren for me, I traw ; 
 Puf, this smoke dos me myche shame, 
 Now bren, in the devillys name. 
 A, what deville of helle is it ? 
 Almost had myne brethe beyn dit. 3 
 Had I blawen oone blast more 
 I had beyn choked right thore. 
 
 And while Cain, coughing and cursing, staggers 
 back from the altar, Abel, who, in disregard of his 
 
 1 reason. 2 measly. 3 stopped. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 6 1 
 
 brother's angry warnings, has lingered near the 
 scene, cries with sorrowful foreboding : — 
 
 Abelle. Cain, this is not worthe oone leke ; 
 
 Thy tend should bren with outten smeke. 
 
 The answer vouchsafed to his fraternal solicitude 
 is a furious snarl from the still choking and gasping 
 husbandman. 
 
 Cayn. For the it brens but the wars. 
 
 I wold that it were in thi throte, 
 Fyre, and shefe, and iche a sprote. 1 
 
 Then upon the ears of the reckless blasphemer 
 falls a still, small voice, — never before or since, we 
 may well believe, more irreverently greeted. 
 
 Deus. Cain, why art thou so rebelle 
 
 Agans thi brother Abelle ? 
 Caym. Whi, who is that Hob over the walle ? 
 We, who was that that piped so smalle ? 
 Com, go we hens, for perels alle ; 
 
 God is out of hys wit. 
 Com furth, Abelle, and let us weynd, 
 Me thynk that God is not my freynd, 
 On land then wille I flyt. 2 
 Abelle. O, Caym, brother, that is ille done. 
 Caym. No, bot go we hens sone ; 
 And if I may, I shalle be 
 
 Ther as God shalle not me see. 
 
 1 every sprout. 2 flee. 
 
62 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Poor Abel, not daring to openly oppose the wild 
 will of the outcast, in a feeble and mal apropos 
 fashion proposes to go and feed the cattle. 
 
 Abelle. Dere brother, I wille fayre 
 On feld ther oure bestes ar, 
 To looke if thay be holgh 1 or fulle. 
 
 Over Cain's tumult of passions his wrath, waxed 
 dark and murderous, now obtains the mastery. 
 
 Cayn. Na, na abide, we have a craw to pulle ; 
 
 Hark, speke with me or thou go, 
 
 What wenys thou to skape so? 
 
 We, na, I aght the a fowlle dispyte, 
 
 And now is tyme that I hit qwite. 
 Abel. Brother, whi art thou so to me in ire ? 
 Caym. We, theyf, whi brend thi tend so shyre 2 ? 
 
 Ther myne did bot smoked 
 
 Right as it wold us bothe have choked. 
 Abel. Godes wille I trow it were 
 
 That myn brened so clere ; 
 
 If thyne smoked am I to wite 3 ? 
 
 With this Cain leaps upon his brother, apparently 
 anticipating, as implement for the slaughter, the 
 famous weapon of Samson. 
 
 Caym. We, yei, that shal thou sore abite ; 
 Withe cheke bon, or that I blyn, 4 
 Shal I the and thi life twyn. 5 
 
 1 hollow. 2 sheer. 3 blame. 4 cease. 5 separate. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION: 63 
 
 So lig down ther and take thi rest, 
 Thus shalle shrewes be chastysed best. 
 Abel. Venjance, venjance, Lord, I cry ; 
 For I am slayne, and not gilty. 
 
 The fratricide accomplished, Cain taunts his silent 
 victim yet again, turns glowering upon the audience, 
 and then, suddenly overcome by the terrors of con- 
 science, creeps quakingly into a convenient hole 
 provided on the stage. But the voice of God pur- 
 sues him there. 
 
 Dens. Caym ! Caym ! 
 
 Caym. Who is that that callis me? 
 
 I am yonder, may thou not se ? 
 Deus. Caym, where is thi brother Abelle ? 
 Caym. What askes thou me ? I trow at helle ; 
 
 At helle I trow he be, 
 
 Who so were ther then myght he se, 
 
 Or som where fallen on slepyng ; 
 
 When was he in my kepyng ? 
 Deus. Caym, Caym, thou was wode * ; 
 
 The voyce of thi brotheres blode 
 
 That thou has slayn, on fals wise, 
 
 From erthe to heven vengeance cryse. 
 
 And, for thou has broght thi brother down, 
 
 Here I gif the my malison. 
 
 With this the play reaches its true dramatic con- 
 clusion, and up to this point, for all the naivete, 
 the rudeness and grossness of language and action, 
 
 1 mad. 
 
64 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 there has been spirit, vigour, and even a just dra- 
 matic progression. The continual mounting of 
 Cain's passionate temper, under Abel's well-intended 
 but somewhat priggish admonitions, is well de- 
 picted, and the boy, with his ready sauce, his 
 monkey play, and frank flavour of democracy, fur- 
 nishes a needed foil to the tragic elements in the 
 drama. The peculiar value of Cain, as a character, 
 lies in his reality. We feel that this Cain is true, 
 not indeed to oriental legend, but to human nature, 
 as exhibited among Yorkshire boors in Chaucer's 
 century. This fierce and niggardly ploughman, who 
 might as well be called Dick or Robin, would be 
 at home in the procession of Canterbury pilgrims, 
 where he would find bullies, blusterers, and rascals, 
 quite of his own crow -feather, and among these 
 another ploughman of that Christ-type, which re- 
 deems even the type of Cain. 
 
 But the play fails utterly here at the dramatic 
 climax. It is unable to rise to the tragic oppor- 
 tunity. It falls back foolishly, instead, on an 
 iteration of Cain's sulky temper and the boy's 
 buffoonery, until the scene degenerates into open 
 farce. Th^n the pageant-carriage is wheeled away, 
 not without having impressed its moral lesson. 
 More than one foul-mouthed, violent-handed rustic 
 in that holiday throng will remember for a few 
 weeks or so to pay his farthings to the priest 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 65 
 
 with fewer curses and use his heavy fist more 
 sparingly. 
 
 These two opening pageants are fairly representa- 
 tive both of Miracles in general and of the Towneley 
 collection in particular. The first illustrates the 
 more conventional treatment of Biblical story — or 
 what was supposed to be Biblical story, — the second 
 the freer and more humorous. Of the remaining: 
 pageants we can let ourselves catch but glimpses, 
 as the thirty glittering scaffolds roll in and out of 
 Wakefield market-square. 
 
 There is the popular Noah pageant, with its white- 
 haired patriarch lamenting over the sins of the 
 world, God descending: from heaven and bidding- him 
 build the ark of refuge, the taunts of Noah's shrew- 
 ish wife, the lively scuffle that ensues between these 
 venerable worthies, heads of the only virtuous house- 
 hold left on earth, and the laborious building of the 
 ark by the rheumatic old shipwright. But even then 
 his stubborn dame refuses to leave her spinning on 
 the hilltop, until the waves swash over her feet, and 
 she comes bounding into the ark in terror of her life. 
 Here, one regrets to record, Noah welcomes her with 
 a severe flogging, because of her previous contu- 
 macy. She retaliates by calling him names, Wat 
 Wynd and Nicholle Nedy, stoutly refusing to sue for 
 mercy, although she is " bet so bio" that she wishes 
 her husband dead and the husbands, likewise, of all 
 
66 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 the women in the audience. Noah, too, turns to the 
 assembly with the sententious counsel : — 
 
 u Ye men that has wifes, vvhyles they are yong, 
 If ye luff your lives, chastice thare tong." 
 
 The following pageant sets forth the story of Abra- 
 ham and Isaac, and, although the treatment is discur- 
 sive and the text nowhere markedly poetical, the 
 simple drama is not without a homely English beauty 
 of its own. The childish docility of the boy, and the 
 unavailing efforts of the submissive, bewildered father 
 to strike the fatal blow are clearly realised. 
 
 Isaac. What have I done, fader, what have I saide? 
 Abraham. Truly, no kyns ille to me. 
 
 Isaac. And thus gyltles shalle be arayde? 
 Abraham. Now, good son, let siche wordes be. 
 
 Isaac. I luf you ay. 
 Abraham. So do I thee. 
 
 Isaac. Fader ! 
 Abraham. What, son? 
 
 Isaac. Let now be seyn 
 For my moder luf. 
 Abraham. Let be, let be ! 
 
 It wille not help that thou wold meyn ; 
 
 Bot ly stylle tille I com to the, 
 
 I mys a lytylle thyng, I weyn. 
 
 He spekes so rufully to me 
 
 That water shotes in both myn eeyn, 
 
 I were lever than alle warldly wyn, 
 
 That I had fon him onys unkynde, 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 6? 
 
 But no defawt I faund hym in ; 
 I wold be dede for hym or pynde. 
 To slo hym thus I thynk grete syn, 
 So rufulle wordes I with hym fynd ; 
 I am fulle wo that we shuld twyn, 1 
 For he wille never oute of my mynd. 
 What shal I to hys moder say? 
 
 The fifth pageant shows Jacob stealing the bless- 
 ing and fleeing from the wrath of Esau. The sixth 
 pageant sets forth in manner decorous and dull, 
 without much action or effort at characterisation, 
 Jacob's dream, his wrestling with the Angel and his 
 reconciliation with Esau. The seventh pageant is 
 rather a pomp than a play. Moses, rehearsing the 
 ten commandments, David, quoting from the psalms, 
 the Roman Sibyl, — a prophetic figure not unfamiliar 
 to the Mysteries, — and the prophet Daniel all fore- 
 tell, one after another, the coming of the Christ. 
 
 " Of a madyn shalle he be borne, 
 To save alle that ar forlorne, 
 Ever more withoutten end." 
 
 The Old Testament pageants close with the story 
 of Moses, who first appears in shepherd garb, inform- 
 ing the audience that he is now 
 
 " set to kepe 
 Under thys montayn syde, 
 Byschope Jettyr shepe," 
 
 1 part. 
 
6S THE EXGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 but presently confounds Pharaoh and his magicians, 
 calls down the ten plagues, and leads the Israelites 
 in safety through the Red Sea. 
 
 The first of the New Testament platforms is occu- 
 pied by Caesar Augustus, a vainglorious bully, who 
 ingratiates himself with the audience by offering to 
 behead any one of them who dares utter a word dur- 
 ing the pageant. His rage and dismay, on learning 
 from his two councillors that a child is to be born 
 in Judea who shall excel him in glory, are absurdly 
 extravagant. He sends his messenger " Lyghtfote " 
 to bid his cousin, Sir Siranus, attend him, and to 
 this sage knight confides his anxiety. Sir Siranus 
 suggests that a general poll-tax, or "heede penny," 
 be decreed, and Caesar prays the messenger, as he 
 " luffes Mahowne," to speed that mandate on. The 
 Annunciation Pageant follows, God avowing that He 
 will visit the long affliction of Adam His handiwork 
 with "oylle of mercy." 
 
 " For he has boght his syn fulle sore, 
 Thise V thousand yeris and more, 
 Fyrst in erth, and sythen in helle." 
 
 Gabriel is despatched to bear to Mary the mystic 
 salutation. 
 
 " Angelle must to Mary go, 
 For the feynd was Eve fo ; 
 He was foule and layth to syght, 
 And thou art angelle fayr and bright.'' 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 69 
 
 The pageant dwells less upon the visit of Gabriel 
 to Mary, however, than upon the perturbations of 
 simple old Joseph, who lends to these earlier Gospel 
 scenes a touch of mingled pathos and comedy. The 
 Salutation consists of a brief dialogue between Mary 
 and Elizabeth, pleasing for the unwonted ease of 
 the verse and for the loving courtesy of woman to 
 woman. 
 
 Maria. My lord of heven, that syttys he, 
 And alle thyng seys withe eee, 
 The safe, Elezabethe. 
 Elezabethe. Welcom, Mary, blyssed blome, 
 Joyfulle am I of thi com, 
 
 To me, from Nazarethe. 
 Maria. How standes it with you, dame, of quart? 1 
 Elezabethe. Welle, my doghter and dere hart, 
 As can for myn elde. 
 ***** 
 Fulle lang shalle I the better be, 
 That I may speke my fylle with the, 
 
 My dere kyns woman ; 
 To wytt how thi freyndes fare, 
 In thi countre where thay ar, 
 
 Therof telle me thou can, 
 And how thou farys, my dere derlyng. 
 Maria. Welle, dame, gramercy youre askyng, 
 For good I wote ye spyr. 2 
 Elezabethe. And Joachym, thy fader, at hame, 
 And Anna, my nese, and thi dame, 
 
 How standes it with hym and hir? 
 
 1 spirits. - question. 
 
JO THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Maria. Dame, yit ar thay bothe on lyfe, 
 
 Bothe Joachym and Anna his wyfe. 
 Elezabethe. Else were my hart mile sare. 
 
 The next two pageants, both dealing with the 
 nightwatch and adoration of the shepherds, serve as 
 a farcical interlude between the tender gravity of the 
 plays immediately preceding, and the solemnity, deep- 
 ening into tragedy, of the plays to come. These two 
 comedies are not in sequence, but independent ver- 
 sions of the shepherd story. The leading characters 
 of the former are a group of Yorkshire boors, Gyb, 
 John Home, and Slow-Pace, preposterous simpletons 
 all three, and Jak Garcio, a rough fellow of a shrewder 
 cast. After much grumbling and quarrelling, and 
 after a supper of such coarse scraps as each has 
 begged during the day, they say their extraordinary 
 prayers and go to sleep. Startled awake by the 
 angel's song, they fall to nai've discussion of the 
 Gloria, and ludicrous attempts to imitate it. At last, 
 they are guided by the star in the east to the manger 
 of Bethlehem, where, like the very clowns they are, 
 they linger bashfully about the door, each pushing 
 his fellow forward. But, once in presence of the 
 Child, they fall on their knees, and eagerly tender 
 their simple gifts, — a little spruce coffer, a ball, and 
 a bottle. The other Pagina Pastormn is an equally 
 remarkable instance of historical incongruity, being 
 another rude, realistic sketch of Northumbrian shep- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 71 
 
 herd life in the days of the early Edwards. This rol- 
 licking farce was undoubtedly the favourite pageant 
 of the series, greeted with clamorous applause as it 
 moved from street to street. Here, too, the intro- 
 ductory characters are three shepherds, the weather- 
 beaten Colle, the hen-pecked Gyb, and the boy 
 Daw, who is something of a rogue. But the prime 
 rogue of the comedy is Mak, a lazy, lawless vaga- 
 bond, ready to shift sail with every wind that blows, 
 and well mated in his wife Gylle, a scold and a 
 slut, who sharpens her tongue on her husband early 
 and late, letting the larder shelves, which his thrift- 
 lessness keeps bare, be overrun by spiders. But 
 it is impossible not to delight in this scampish, 
 hungry, fun-loving Mak, whose character is cleverly 
 and consistently sketched from his first appearance 
 on the moor, by mischance, before the shepherds 
 whom he has it in heart to rob, and whose recog- 
 nition he tries to escape by muffling himself in his 
 cloak and disguising his voice, to the final detec- 
 tion in his cottage, where, the stolen sheep being 
 tucked away as a new-born baby in the cradle, 
 he brazens out the situation with one lie clapped 
 upon another, and, when nothing else will suffice, 
 with a promise of amendment, — the greatest lie of 
 all. 
 
 The shepherds, who, on discovering the loss of the 
 sheep, instantly turn their suspicions upon Mak and 
 
72 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 his wife, are about to leave the cottage after a fruit- 
 less quest : — 
 
 Tercius Pastor. Alle wyrk we in vayn ! as welle may we go. 
 But hatters, 1 
 I can fynde no flesh 
 Hard nor nesh, 2 
 Salt nor fresh, 
 
 Bot two tome 3 platters. 
 ***** 
 Uxor. No, so God me blys, and gyf me joy of 
 my chylde. 
 Primus Pastor. We have marked amys ; I hold us begyld. 
 Secundus Pastor. Syr, don. 
 
 Syr, oure lady hym save. 
 Is youre chyld a knave ? 4 
 Mak. Any lord myght hym have 
 This chyld to his son. 
 
 At the door the shepherds pause, struck by a 
 kindly thought. 
 
 Primus Pastor. Gaf ye the chyld any thyng ? 
 Secundus Pastor. I trow not oone farthyng. 
 Tercius Pastor. Fast agayne wille I flyng, 
 Abyde ye me there. 
 
 Mak, take it to no grefe, if I com to thi 
 barne. 
 Mak. Nay, thou does me greatt reprefe, and 
 fowlle has thou fame. 
 Tercius Pastor. The child wille it not grefe, that lytylle 
 day starne. 
 
 1 except spiders. 2 tender. 3 empty. 4 boy. 
 
MIR A CLE PL A YS — DESCRIPTION. 
 
 73 
 
 Mak, with youre lefe, let me gyf youre 
 
 barne, 
 Bot vj pence. 
 Mak. Nay, do away ; he slepys. 
 Tercius Pastor. Me thynk he pepys. 
 
 Mak. When he wakyns he wepys. 
 I pray you go hence. 
 Tercius Pastor. Gyf me lefe hym to kys, and lyft up the 
 clowtt. 
 What the deville is this? he has a long 
 snowte. 
 Primus Pastor. He is markyd amys. We wate ille abowte. 
 Secundus Pastor. Ille spon 1 weft, iwis, ay commys foulle owte. 
 Ay, so? 
 
 He is lyke to oure shepe. 
 Tercius Pastor. How, Gyb ! may I pepe ? 
 Primus Pastor. I trow, kynde wille crepe 
 Where it may not go. 
 Secundus Pastor. This was a quantte gawde 2 and a far cast. 
 It was a hee frawde. 
 Tercius Pastor. Yee, syrs, wast. 
 
 Lett bren this bawde and bind hir fast. 
 A fals skawde 3 hang at the last ; 
 So shalle thou. 
 
 Wylle ye se how thay swedylle 
 His foure feytt in the medylle ? 
 Sagh I never in a credylle 
 A hornyd lad or now. 
 Mak. Peasse byd I : what ! lett be youre fare ; 
 I am he that hym gatt, and yond woman 
 hym bare. 
 
 spun. 
 
 quaint trick. 
 
 3 All false scolds, 
 
74 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Primus Pastor. What deville shall he hatt ? 
 Mak, lo God, Mak's ayre. 
 Secundus Pastor. Let be alle that. Now God gyf hym care, 
 I sagh. 
 Uxor. A pratty child is he 
 
 As syttes on a woman's kne ; 
 A dylle doune, parde, 
 To gar a man laghe. 
 Tercius Pastor. I know hym by the eere marke ; that is a 
 good tokyn. 
 Mak. I telle you, syrs, hark : hys noys was broken. 
 Sythen told me a clerk, that he was for- 
 spokyn. 1 
 Primus Pastor. This is a false wark. I wold fayne be 
 wrokyn : Gett 2 wepyn. 
 Uxor. He was takyn with an elfe : 
 I saw it myself. 
 When the clok stroke twelf 
 Was he forshapyn. 
 Secundus Pastor. Ye two ar welle feft, sam in a stede. 
 Tercius Pastor. Syn thay manteyn thare theft, let do thaym 
 to dede. 3 
 Mak. If I trespas eft, 4 gyrd 5 of my heede. 
 With you wille I be left. 
 Primus Pastor. Syrs, do my reede. 
 For this trespas, 
 We wille nawther ban ne flyte, 
 Fyght nor chyte, 
 Bot have done as tyte, 
 And cast hym in canvas. 
 
 enchanted. 2 Collier conjectures Lett = cease, 
 
 death. 4 again, 5 cut. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 75 
 
 The supernatural incidents added to this frank 
 drama of common life have only the slightest thread 
 of connection with the main plot. There is no 
 further burlesque, after Mak has been exposed and 
 tossed in a blanket, except in the persistent at- 
 tempts of the shepherds to try their cracked voices 
 at the angel song. When they are in the presence 
 of the Holy Child, there is not a trace of inten- 
 tional irreverence. The stable scene is one of great 
 naivete, but the shepherds' homely terms of endear- 
 ment, their simple gifts, — a bird, a ball, a "bob of 
 cherys," and their pleasure when the "swetyng" 
 "merys," and "laghys," are not without tender sug- 
 gestion of the sanctities of hearth and home. 
 
 The next play in order has for theme the coming 
 of the Magi. The central character is Herod, swag- 
 gering about fiercely in his blue satin gown and 
 gilded helmet. He is the prince of blusterers, and a 
 devout worshipper of Mahomet. This noisy pageant 
 is succeeded by a quiet night-scene at Bethlehem. 
 Joseph is called from his sleep by an angel 
 
 "As blossom bright on bogh," 
 
 and bidden rise and flee. The countrified old car- 
 penter appears, as usual, bewildered and reluctant. 
 It is some time before the angel can make him 
 understand what is wanted of him, and then he 
 protests that he is sick and sore, and his bones 
 
J6 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 ache, and that he doesn't know the way to Egypt. 
 But toward Mary, whose alarm is all for her child, 
 Joseph assumes an air of dignified rebuke, bids 
 her give over her " dyn " and dress the baby and 
 pack up the "gere" at once. What Joseph does 
 is not apparent. Perhaps he saddles the ass. At 
 all events, he finds time to bemoan his lot at 
 length, and warn all young men against matrimony. 
 Then comes a stormy pageant presenting, somewhat 
 absurdly, the slaughter of the Innocents. Three 
 soldiers, at the instigation of the furious Herod, 
 engage in hand to hand combat with three dis- 
 tracted mothers, and, having slain each .a child, ride 
 back in triumph to their master, claiming to have 
 killed "many thowsandes." The delighted tyrant, 
 for reward, offers each a fair bride, but they deli- 
 cately suggest that gold and silver would be more 
 acceptable, and so he promises them a hundred 
 thousand pounds apiece, with castles and towers. 
 Herod then returns thanks to " Mahoune," exults 
 over the thought of the multitude of innocents 
 bloodily murdered, and closes his long address with 
 the unexpected recommendation : — 
 
 " Sirs, this is my counselle, 
 Bese not to cruelle, 
 Bot adew to the devylle ; 
 I can no more Franche." 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. yy 
 
 From this it is a natural inference that Herod, as 
 a socially exalted personage, originally was accus- 
 tomed, in some or all of his discourses, to use the 
 Norman tongue. 
 
 The conclusion of the next Mystery in order, Puri- 
 ficatio Marice, and the commencement of the follow- 
 ing, Pagina Doctorum, are lost. Simeon, describing 
 with homely vividness his manifold infirmities of age, 
 prays for a sight, before he dies, of the long-prom- 
 ised Immanuel. Two angels assure him that his 
 prayer is heard in Heaven, and bid him seek the 
 newborn Christ in the Temple. He turns his slow 
 steps thitherward, wondering at the ringing of the 
 bells, and encounters Joseph and Mary on their way 
 to make the offering of turtle-doves. Angel voices 
 call to him to behold the child in Mary's arms, — 
 and here the leaf is torn away. 
 
 Pagina Doctor um, suffering from the same mutila- 
 tion, opens abruptly in the midst of a discussion 
 of the Rabbis, concerning Messianic prophecy. 
 One of them, as he pores over the ancient roll, not 
 unpoetically expands the Hebrew reference to "a 
 root out of Jesse." 
 
 Tercius Magister. Masters, youre resons ar right good, 
 And wonderfulle to neven, 
 Yit fynde I more by Abacuk ; 
 Syrs, lysten a vvhyle unto my Steven.' 
 
 1 voice. 
 
yS THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Our baylle, he says, shalle turn to boytt, 
 Her afterward som day ; 
 A wande shalle spryng fro Jessy roytt, 
 The certan sothe thus can he say. 
 And of that wande shalle spryng a floure, 
 That shalle spryng up fulle hight, 
 Ther of shalle com fulle swete odowre. 
 And therupon shalle rest and lyght 
 The Holy Gost, fulle mych of myght, 
 The Goost of wysdom and of wyt 
 Shalle beyld his nest, with mekylle right, 
 And in it brede and sytt. 
 
 The child Jesus steps in among the Rabbis with 
 gentle greeting, and is bidden by two of them run 
 away, as they are too busy to be troubled by "barnes " ; 
 but the third, the sweeter spirit who had so lovingly 
 dwelt on the old text, calls Jesus to his knee and 
 offers to teach him. The boy quietly protests that 
 he knows as much as they, and when they would test 
 him with questions, excites their wonder and admira- 
 tion by reciting the ten commandments. At this 
 point Joseph and Mary enter some remote door of the 
 Temple (the mediaeval playwright evidently conceiv- 
 ing of the building as a Gothic cathedral), distress- 
 fully seeking the lost child, but the sight, afar off, of 
 Jesus among the Rabbis restores their peace. Mary 
 strives in vain to persuade Joseph to go forward and 
 call the boy away, while Joseph, as always, hangs 
 back, abashed by the costly clothes of the Pharisees, 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 79 
 
 Maria. Now, dere Joseph, as have ye seylle, 1 
 
 Go furthe and fetche youre son and myne ; 
 This day is goyn nere ilka deylle, 
 And we have nede for to go hien. 
 
 Josephus. With men of myght can I not melle, 2 
 Then alle my travelle mon I tyne ; 3 
 I can not with thaym, that wote ye welle, 
 Thay are so gay in furry s fyne. 
 Maria. To thaym youre erand forto say 
 
 Surely that thar ye dred no deylle, 
 Thay wille take hede to you alway 
 Be cause of eld, this wote I weylle. 
 
 Josephus. When I com ther what shalle I say? 
 For I wote not, as have I ceylle, 1 
 Bot thou wille have me shamyd for ay, 
 For I can nawthere crowke ne knele. 
 Maria. Go we togeder, I hold it best, 
 
 Unto yond worthy wyghtes in wede, 
 
 And if I se, as have I rest, 
 
 That ye wille not then must I nede. 
 
 Josephus. Go thou and telle thi taylle fyrst, 
 
 Thi son to se 4 wille take good hede ; 
 Weynd furthe, Mary, and do thi best, 
 I com behynd, as God me spede. 
 
 Mary addresses herself to her son, who reminds 
 her that he must be about his " fader warkys," but, 
 nevertheless, says a courteous farewell to the Rabbis, 
 of whom the first two give him praise and good 
 
 1 happiness. 2 mingle. 3 lose. 4 thee ? 
 
8o THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 wishes, while the third would have him take up his 
 abode with them, and accompanies Mary and Joseph 
 from the Temple. The Madonna's heart brims with 
 gladness. 
 
 Mafia. Fulle welle is me this tyde, 
 
 Now may we make good chere. 
 
 But the uncourtly carpenter is only anxious to 
 be off. 
 
 Josephus. No longer wylle we byde. 
 Fare welle alle folk in fere. 1 
 
 The nineteenth pageant, Johannes Baptista, is dis- 
 tinguished among the others by its dull and prosaic 
 character, and by its jogging metre. John, who in- 
 troduces himself and his errand to the audience in 
 the initial speech, is instructed by two angels to bap- 
 tise Jesus there in the "flume Jordan." He objects, 
 both as feeling himself unworthy to touch the Lord's 
 body, and as considering it more reverential that he 
 should go and meet the Saviour, rather than await 
 by the riverside Christ's coming. But when the 
 angels insist that it is better that the Lord should 
 come to him, John deduces a moral. 
 
 " By this I may welle understand 
 That chylder shuld be broght to kyrk, 
 For to be baptysyd in every land." 
 
 1 company. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. Si 
 
 Later on, too, in the very act of the baptism, 
 
 " In the name of thi Fader fre, 
 In nomine Patris et Filii 
 Sen he wille that it so be, 
 Et Spiritus altissimi, 
 And of the Holy Goost on he," 
 
 John inserts a priestly discourse on the seven sacra- 
 ments. 
 
 " Here I the anoynt also 
 
 "With oyle and creme in this intent, 
 
 That men may wit, where so thay go, 
 
 This is a worthy sacrament. 
 
 Ther ar Vj othere and no mo, 
 
 The whiche thi self to erth has sent, 
 
 And in true tokyn, oone of tho 
 
 The fyrst on the now is it spent." 
 
 It is of interest to notice that these lines have been 
 crossed out in the manuscript, the figure Vj alto- 
 gether erased, and against the passage the words 
 written: " Correctyd and not played." The infer- 
 ence is that the pageant was acted at least once or 
 twice after the Reformation. The rite of baptism 
 concluded, Jesus gives a lamb to John, who remains 
 preaching in the wilderness. 
 
 Now comes the third and last group of the Town e- 
 ley Mysteries, where, however rude the expression, 
 the intent throughout, with the exception of a single 
 scene, is tragic. The representation of the Saviour's 
 
82 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Passion, physically realistic as these primitive play- 
 wrights strove to make it, was doubtless beheld in 
 all devoutness by a hushed, heart-smitten audience. 
 Pilate is the blusterer now, and it is he who takes 
 the lead in the conspiracy against Jesus. The Last 
 Supper is presented, the dialogue adhering closely to 
 the Gospel text. The rhyming is often imperfect, and 
 the diction bald, but here and there occurs a touch of 
 poetry, and the feeling is always reverent and tender. 
 
 " Now loke youre hartes be grefyd noght, 
 Nawther in drede nor in wo, 
 But trow in God, that you has wroght, 
 And in me trow ye also \ 
 In my fader house, for sothe, 
 Is many a wonnyng stede, 1 
 That men shalle have aftyr thare trowthe, 
 Soyn after thay be dede. 
 And here may I no longer leynd, 2 
 Bot I shalle go before, 
 And yit if I before you weynd, 
 For you to ordan thore, 
 I shalle com to you agane, 
 And take you to me, 
 That where so ever I am 
 Ye shalle be with me. 
 And I am way and sothe-fastnes, 
 And lyfe that ever shalbe, 
 And to my fader comys none, iwys, 
 Bot oonly thorow me. 
 
 1 dwelling-place. 2 tarry. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 83 
 
 I wille not leyf you all helples, 
 As men withoutten freynd ; 
 As faderles and moderles, 
 Thof alle I fro you weynd ; 
 I shalle com eft to you agayne, 
 This warld shalle me not se, 
 But ye shalle se me welle certan, 
 And lyfand shalle I be. 
 And ye shalle lyf in heven, 
 Then shalle ye knaw iwys, 
 That I am in my fader even 
 And my fader in me is." 
 
 Later comes the prayer of Gethsemane : — 
 
 " Fader, let this great payn be stylle, 
 And pas away fro me ; 
 Bot not, fader, at my wylle, 
 Bot thyn fulfylled be." 
 
 After the betrayal come the scenes of the buffet- 
 ing and scourging, with all the brutality emphasised 
 and elaborated. These painful effects are continued 
 throughout the trial scene and the scene in the Via 
 Dolorosa, while the crucifixion pageant is wellnigh 
 intolerable. Every detail of the physical torture 
 is forced into prominence, and the spiritual glory 
 that, in the Gospel narrative, makes the anguish 
 ot Calvary a " sorrow more beautiful than beauty's 
 self" is almost utterly wanting. As a relief from 
 the tragic tension, the casting of lots for the seam- 
 
84 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 less vesture is farcically handled, and is followed 
 by the popular pageant known as the Harrowing 
 of Hell, which gives the actors who take the devil- 
 roles their opportunity. The spirit of Jesus, while 
 the body still slumbers in the sepulchre, treads the 
 steep path to hell. As the gleam of light shed 
 before the steps of the coming deliverer grows 
 brighter and brighter, the imprisoned souls wax 
 eager in anticipation, Isaiah, Simeon, John the Bap- 
 tist, and Moses confirming the new hope. The 
 demon warders grow restless, and listen fearfully 
 for the awful voice that soon thunders at their 
 gates: " Lif t up your heads, O ye gates! And be 
 ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors ! And the King 
 of Glory shall come in." After vain parley with the 
 threatening stranger, Beelzebub calls up Satan, the 
 Lord of Hell, who ascends in all his terrors, but is 
 smitten down by the resistless arm of Christ. For 
 Judas, Cain, and the Roman Cato — poor Cato, who 
 must need all his philosophy to reconcile him to 
 such a classification — there is no rescue, but the 
 other spirits, hand in hand, led by Adam, who is 
 led by Christ, troop up from the black jaws of hell- 
 mouth, singing the Te Deum. 
 
 The Resurrection pageant follows with comparative 
 fidelity the Gospel narrative, although the Saviour, 
 on emerging from the tomb, utters a long and touch- 
 ing appeal to the audience, beginning, — 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DESCRIPTION. 85 
 
 " Erthly man that I have wroght 
 Wightly wake, and slepe thou noght, 
 With bytter baylle I have the boght, 
 
 To make the fre ; 
 Into this dongeon depe I soght 
 
 And alle for luf of the." 
 
 He displays his wounds, rehearses his agonies. 
 
 " Sen I for luf, man, boght the dere, 
 As thou thi self the sothe sees here, 
 I pray the hartely, with good chere, 
 
 Luf me agane ; 
 That it lyked me that I for the 
 
 Tholyd 1 alle this payn. 
 If thou this lyfe in syn have led, 
 Mercy to ask be not adred, 
 The leste drope I for the bled 
 
 Myght clens the soyn, 
 Alle the syn the warld with in 
 
 If thou had done." 
 
 With outspread arms the white-robed figure yearns 
 toward the tearful listeners. 
 
 " Lo how I hold myn armes on brade, 
 The to save ay redy mayde, 
 That I great luf to the had, 
 
 Welle may thou know ! 
 Som luf agane I wold mile fayn 
 
 Thou wold me show. 
 Bot luf noghte els aske I of the, 
 
 1 suffered. 
 
86 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 And that thou fownde * fast syn to fie, 
 Pyne the to lyf in charyte 
 
 Bothe night and day ; 
 Then in my blys that never shalle mys 
 
 Thou shalle dvvelle ay." 
 
 The fishers of Wakefield set forth the walk to 
 Emmaus, and the evening meal, the episode of doubt- 
 ing Thomas follows, and then the ascension pageant. 
 Doomsday completes the series. The dead have 
 just arisen from their graves, sworded angels drive 
 the greedy demons away from the righteous, while 
 the cloud-enthroned Christ, with the sound of trump, 
 descends from heaven for judgment. The devils 
 quake before Him, but claim their legitimate prey, 
 gleefully reading from their books long lists of 
 evildoers. Their harsh tones and harsher laughter 
 are hushed by the voice of Christ, Who, displaying 
 His pierced hands and wounded side, tells over once 
 again the story of His sufferings. 
 
 " Thus was I dight thi sorow to slake, 
 Man, thus behovid the borud 2 to be, 
 In alle my wo tooke I no wrake, 3 
 My wille it was for luf of the : 
 Man, for sorow aght the to quake, 
 This dredful day this sight to se, 
 Alle this suffred I for thi sake, 
 Say, man, what suffred thou for me?" 
 
 1 try. 2 ransomed. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DESCRIPTION. 8? 
 
 To the souls on the right and to the souls on the 
 left their dooms are meted out, and while the de- 
 mons seize upon their victims, with scoff and threat, 
 the saints sing the Te Deum, and the last pageant- 
 carriage, leaving behind it pale faces and quivering 
 nerves, rolls out of Wakefield market-square and on 
 from street to street until the evening falls. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 MIRACLE PLAYS ENUMERATION. 
 
 English literature is fortunate in the survival of 
 four of her Mystery cycles, — of five, indeed, if to 
 Cornwall be accorded an English recognition. Yet 
 these are but a portion, and the smaller portion, of 
 Great Britain's original store. The sea of time has 
 an indiscriminate appetite, and swallows, with equal 
 gusto, an ^Eschylean trilogy and the dramatic patch- 
 work of blundering old monks. A little wreckage 
 from the sunken cycles has been picked up by dili- 
 gent antiquarians, — the Dublin Abraham play, the 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne Noah play, and by the side of 
 these have drifted ashore other stray pageants with a 
 cyclic suggestion about them, an indefinable air of 
 missing something, like teaspoons that have out- 
 worn their set. There are chance notices, too, in 
 out-of-the-way old parchments, of cycles whose 
 manuscripts have long since gone to fatten church- 
 tower rats, and doubtless there were still other 
 cycles, once the boast of goodly towns, that have 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 89 
 
 left of themselves not the faintest record or tra- 
 dition. 
 
 It is strangest of all that no London cycle has been 
 preserved. Beside the long and elaborate series 
 acted there by the parish clerks, the "joly Absolons," 
 that dissipated series which required a week and a 
 day for presentation, there seems to have been a 
 secondary London group, a three-days' performance, 
 in addition to a number of isolated pageants pertain- 
 ing in one way or another to the metropolis. There 
 was a conspicuous Beverly cycle of thirty-six Corpus 
 Christi plays, a list of whose titles, nearly corre- 
 sponding to those of the York series, is extant. 
 There was a Worcester cycle, probably consisting of 
 five Corpus Christi plays acted by the guilds. The 
 old cathedral town of Canterbury, magnet of pilgrims 
 the kingdom over, was not without its pageant series, 
 and Heybridge, Preston, Lancaster, and Kendall 
 appear likewise to have had their own dramatic 
 versions of the Bible. 
 
 Yet deep as is the silence which has fallen on all 
 that eager bustle of the mediaeval English stage, — 
 on all that stir and pomp and bravery, on the gayly 
 adorned, emulous pageant-scaffolds rattling hastily 
 to their posts in the summer dawn, on the rough- 
 handed players lost in admiration of their own finery, 
 and rehearsing in every available corner the rant of 
 Herod, the wail of the Madonna, on the throngs 
 
QO THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 of spectators crowding to the heads of the narrow 
 streets, delighted to recognise son or sweetheart in 
 gold-plumed angel or white-bearded patriarch, half- 
 shuddering to catch the glance of familiar eyes from 
 under the red tuft of Judas or the black horns of 
 the warder of hellmoutb, — still enough remains of 
 tattered, time-yellowed manuscript to enable us to 
 estimate the dramatic significance of this most popu- 
 lar and long-enduring phase that the English drama 
 has ever known. 
 
 The cycle most nearly corresponding to the 
 Towneley plays is that of York, probably derived 
 from the same original series, now lost, as this 
 other Northumbrian group, but at an earlier date 
 than the Towneley. The York cycle has- another 
 and still closer parallel in that remarkable poem of 
 the Durham district, the Cursor Mundi> which, like 
 the York collection of plays, the three other series 
 being less complete, comprehensively sets forth the 
 sacred history from creation to doomsday, and which 
 bears the further resemblance to the York Mys- 
 teries of being comparatively free from the element 
 of comedy that enters so largely into the Towneley 
 plays. The Chester cycle, too, abounds in jocular 
 incidents, while the Coventry is quite as grave and 
 decorous as the York. 
 
 The York plays were performed within the walls 
 of that stately old city by the craft-guilds on the 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS - ENUMERATION. 91 
 
 festival of Corpus Christi in the fourteenth, fifteenth, 
 and sixteenth centuries. This venerable and impor- 
 tant cycle was, however, the last of all to make its 
 way into print. Although repeatedly and insistently 
 called for, it was not given to the literary world 
 until 1885, in Miss Lucy Toulmin Smith's edition, 
 an edition so good as to make amends for the delay. 
 The Earl of Ashburnham, so reluctantly yielding up 
 his treasured manuscript to the vulgar press, bought it 
 from a gentleman, who, in 1842, had paid for it .£305, 
 though in 1764 it had been bought by Horace Wal- 
 pole for one guinea. These figures are significant 
 as showing the increased value set, with the increase 
 of knowledge, upon our early English literature. A 
 second illustrious name is connected with the story 
 of this old parchment volume, for it was at one time 
 in the possession of Henry Fairfax, uncle to the 
 Parliamentarian general, Lord Fairfax. This dis- 
 tinguished soldier, in addition to the honour of having 
 a sonnet inscribed to him by Milton, may have had the 
 unconscious glory of saving these plays, as he saved 
 other manuscripts, from destruction, at the blowing up 
 of St. Mary's Tower in York. • It is likely enough that 
 this old folio was among the miscellaneous literary 
 deposit of the Tower, though there is no direct proof 
 to be obtained, for of the volume's prior history we 
 know only that it was kept in York under the con- 
 trol of the City Corporation, but in the care — for 
 
92 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 some of the time, at least — of the priory of Holy- 
 Trinity, which shared at the Reformation the 
 general fate of Roman Catholic establishments in 
 England. 
 
 The York pageants number forty-eight. Five of 
 these, — the Israelites delivered from Egypt, Christ 
 in the Temple, the Harrowing of Hell, the Resur- 
 rection, and the Day of Judgment, — are repeated, 
 sometimes even verbatim, in the Towneley collec- 
 tion. These York plays are usually divided, often 
 with no little dramatic skill, into scenes. One of 
 their most striking features is the variety in metre 
 and stanzaic arrangement they present, the meas- 
 ure often changing with a new speaker or a new 
 emotion. 
 
 Sweetly cadenced, for example, is Elizabeth's greet- 
 ing to Mary. 
 
 " Welcome ! mylde Marie, 
 
 Myn aughen cosyne so dere, 
 Joifull woman am I, 
 
 pat I nowe see \>e here. 
 Blissed be |>ou anely 
 
 Of all women in feere l 
 And |ie frute of thy body 
 
 Be blissid ferre and nere." 
 
 But the swaggerers, as Herod, run the letter at 
 full gallop. 
 
 1 company. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 93 
 
 " Dragons pat are dredfull schall derke in per denne, 
 
 In wrathe when we writhe, or in wrathenesse ar wapped, 
 Agaynste jeanntis 1 on-gentill have we joined with ingen, 
 And swannys pat are swymmyng to oure swetnes schall 
 be suapped." 
 
 The York dramatist usually handles his verse with 
 ease and often with grace. It is but rarely that his 
 rhyme trips him into an absurdity, as when Satan, 
 in the Temptation scene, is urging Christ to cast 
 Himself down from the height. 
 
 " For it is wretyn, as wele is kende, 
 How God schall anngellis to pe sende, 
 And they schall kepe pe in per hande 
 
 wher-so pou gose, 
 pat pou schall on no stones descende 
 
 to hurte pi tose." 
 
 The general character of the York cycle is digni- 
 fied and devout, and yet passages frequently occur 
 of realistic force and even of vivacity. The quarrel 
 between Adam and Eve after the fall is capitally 
 done. 
 
 Adam. To see it is a synfull syghte, 
 
 We bothe pat were in blis so brighte, 
 
 We mon go nakid every-ilke a nyght, 
 
 and dayes by-dene. 
 
 Alias ! what womans witte was light ! 
 
 pat was wele sene. 
 
 1 giants. 
 
94 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Eue. Sethyn it was so me knyth it sore, 
 
 Bot sythen that woman witteles ware, 
 Mans maistrie shulde haue bene more 
 agayns J^e gilte. 
 Adam. Nay, at my speche wolde }?ou never spare, 
 \dX has vs spilte. 
 Eue. Iff I hadde spoken youe oughte to spill, 
 Ye shulde haue taken gode tent pere tyll, 
 and turnyd my pought. 
 Adam. Do way, woman, and neme it nought, 
 For at my biddyng wolde )>ou not be, 
 And therfore my woo wyte y thee l 
 Thurgh ille counsaille Jms casten ar we, 
 
 in bittir bale. 
 Now god late never man oftir me 
 
 triste woman tale. 
 
 If the York plays seem subdued in tone after the 
 Towneley collection, we must do them the justice to 
 admit that their religious sentiment is deeper and 
 their general treatment of the Biblical history more 
 reverent and appropriate. Yet frequently the con- 
 ception jars, as in the naiVe reason assigned by God 
 for the creation of man, although the second strophe 
 goes far toward redeeming the first and third. 
 
 " This werke is wrought nowe at my wille, 
 But yitte can I here no beste see 
 That accordes by kyndly skylle 2 
 
 And for my werke myghte worshippe me. 
 
 1 charge I to thee. 2 natural intelligence. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 95 
 
 For parfite werke ne were it none 
 
 But oughte wer made pat myghte it zeme, 1 
 For love made I pis worlde alone, 
 
 Therfore my love shalle in it seme. 
 To keepe this worlde bothe more and lesse 
 
 A skylfull beeste than will y make, 
 Aftir my shappe and my liknesse, 
 
 The whilke shalle wirshippe to me take." 
 
 The Cain pageant, again, is curiously clumsy, ill- 
 timed, and undramatic in its attempts at comedy, — 
 a conspicuous contrast to the natural fun, rude 
 though it is, of the corresponding Towneley play. 
 Cain, for instance, strikes the angel who brings him 
 God's malison, and the messenger, in most unceles- 
 tial anger, makes the divine curse heavier by the 
 weight of his own. 
 
 The Passion pageants, too, are distressful, present- 
 ing a large amount of extra-Scriptural matter and 
 drawing out beyond all endurance the scenes of 
 insult and torture. The characteristic attempt of 
 the English guilds to achieve realism in all the 
 practical details of the presentation, carpentercraft, 
 sailorcraft, and smithcraft, is nowhere more strik- 
 ingly exhibited than in the crucifixion scenes of the 
 York cycle. But this stress laid on fastening the 
 victim to the cross in a workmanlike manner and 
 wedging the cross firmly into the mortise, while it 
 
 1 care for. 
 
96 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 imparts a certain physical reality to the situation, 
 effectually distracts the attention from the spiritual 
 and ideal element. And so with the human by-play 
 which, throughout these Passion pageants, is meant 
 to relieve the tragic tension. All the accessory inci- 
 dents, as the putting to bed and rousing again of 
 Caiaphas and Pilate, and the buying of Calvary 
 locus from the sadly cheated squire, belittle and 
 confuse the main conception. The York cycle, in 
 its zest for amplification in these Passion pageants, 
 draws largely from legend. We have the story, so 
 fully narrated in the apocryphal gospels, of the bow- 
 ing of the Roman standards in homage to Jesus, 
 despite the efforts of the standard-bearers to hold 
 them upright, and we even have a hint of the fan- 
 tastic Cornish legend of the consecrated tree, sprung 
 from Adam's grave, built into Solomon's Temple, 
 laid as a bridge over Kedron, and finally shaped 
 into the Saviour's cross : — 
 
 " I have bene garre make 
 
 pis crosse, as yhe may see, 
 Of |>at laye ouere ]>e lake, 
 
 Men called it pe kyngis tree." 
 
 The Pilate family is prominent in this Passion 
 group, the son being introduced as often as possible, 
 and the wife having a semi-comic part to play. 
 We first find her arousing the displeasure of the 
 
MIRACLE PLA\ S — ENUMERATION 97 
 
 beadle by kissing her husband, and drinking with him 
 in the Judgment Hall, but after she has gone home 
 to sleep, the Devil, foreseeing the harrowing of hell, 
 whispers in her ear and stirs her to an unavailing 
 effort to save the life of Jesus. Pilate himself is han- 
 dled with unusual gentleness by the York playwright, 
 being depicted as fair of person and noble of heart, 
 but unable to protect his prisoner, to whom he does 
 involuntary homage, from the hatred of the Jews. 
 
 But although the conception often disappoints 
 and repels, occasionally we are surprised by an 
 almost subtle touch, as in the lament of the Eden 
 exiles for the sorrow their sin has brought upon 
 the innocent earth, a stanza curiously anticipating 
 that scene in Mrs. Browning's Drama of Exile, where 
 the reproachful spirits of the earth and of the creat- 
 ures confront the two curse-bringers : — 
 
 " Alas ! for bale, what may this bee ? 
 In worlde unwisely wrought have wee, 
 This erthe it trembelys for this tree, 
 
 and dyns ilk dele. 
 Alle this worlde is wroth with mee, 
 
 this wote I wele." 
 
 Very beautiful is God's loving delight in giving 
 His blessing, which He bestows over and over, as 
 upon the conclusion of His creative work. 
 
 " At heuene and erthe firste I be-ganne, 
 And vj daies wroughte or y wolde reste, 
 
98 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 My vverke is endid nowe at manne, 
 Alle likes me wele, but pis pe beste. 
 
 My blissynge haue they ever and ay ; 
 pe seuynte day shal my restyng be, 
 
 pus wille I sese, sothly to say, 
 Of my doyng in jus degree. 
 
 To blisse I schal you bringe, 
 Comes forthe ^e two with me, 
 
 ^e shalle lyff in likyng, 
 My blissyng with you be." 
 
 Even the creative act, no less than the after ap- 
 proval, is designated as God's blessing. 
 
 "Ande in my fyrste makyng to mustyr my mighte, 
 Sen erthe is vayne and voyde, and myrknes emel, 1 
 I byd in my blyssyng ^he anngels gyf lyghte 
 To ]>e erthe, for it faded when ]:e fendes fell." 
 
 A true touch of spiritual feeling occurs in the 
 Noah pageant, where the patriarch, five hundred 
 years old when he goes about his undertaking, 
 finds with joy and thanksgiving, like Joseph in the 
 journey to Egypt, that his weakness is made 
 strength. /Nor is Noah's wife as unruly as in the 
 Towneley series, though she shows pardonable re- 
 sentment against her husband for having kept his 
 daily occupation a secret from her all the hundred 
 
 years. 
 
 " Thow shulde have witte my wille, 
 
 If I wolde sente 2 ther tille. 
 1 amidst. 2 consent. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 99 
 
 The attempts of the York dramatist to introduce 
 family strife into the Noah pageant are amusingly per- 
 functory. Under all the patriarchal bickerings is a fun- 
 damental sweetness and serenity of household tone*-^/ 
 
 The Abraham pageant is out of the common 
 order, there being an effort to ennoble the pathos 
 by a novel conception of Isaac. He is represented 
 as a young man of thirty years, who, on his way 
 to the Mount of Vision, without suspicion of what 
 awaits him there, gives expression to his willingness 
 to yield up his life at God's bidding. The heart- 
 troubled father says wistfully : — 
 
 Abraham. Sone, yf oure lord god almyghty 
 
 Of my selfe walde have his offerande, 
 I wolde be glade for hym to dye, 
 For all oure heele hyngis in his hande. 
 Isaac. Fadir, for suth, ryght so walde I, 
 Lever than lange to leve in lande. 
 
 Abraham. A ! sone, thu sais full wele, for thy 
 
 God geve the grace grathely to stande. 
 
 Yet the reader is constrained to feel that Isaac's 
 submission, on learning his doom, is unnatural in 
 its composure, although as he lies bound beneath the 
 sword there is wrung from him one bitter cry : — 
 
 " A ! dere fadir, lyff is full swete." 
 
 And even the most reverential student of Miracle 
 plays bites back a smile, when the young man, as 
 
IOO THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 they descend the mountain, receives his father's mat- 
 rimonial decree with the same tranquil resignation 
 which he had shown upon the altar. 
 
 Abraham. Nowe sone, sen we ]ms wele hase spede, 
 
 That god has graunted me thy liffe, 
 
 It is my wille J>at pou be wedde, 
 
 And welde a woman to thy wyffe ; 
 
 So sail thy sede springe and be spredde, 
 
 In the lawe^ of god be reasoune ryffe. 
 
 I wate in what steede sho is stede, 1 
 
 That ]>ou sail wedde, withowten stryffe. 
 
 Rabek pat damysell, 
 
 Hir fayrer is none fone, 
 
 The doughter of Batwell, 
 
 That was my brothir sone. 
 Isaac. Fadir, as ]>ou likes my lyffe to spende, 
 
 I sail assente vnto the same. 
 Abraham. One of my seruandis sone sail I sende 
 
 Vn-to pat-birde to brynge hir hame. 
 
 The repentant anguish of Judas, graphically de- 
 scribed as the possessor of "a kene face uncomely 
 to kys," is emphasised; the comic strain in the shep- 
 herd scenes is almost lost in the tone of longing 
 and adoration ; the Transfiguration calls forth the 
 poet's devoutest response of feeling and of fancy, 
 and throughout the gospel pageants the figure of 
 Jesus, in however unseemly environment, loses noth- 
 ing of its gentle majesty. He bows not to Pilate 
 nor kneels to Herod. The first deals with Him 
 
 1 place she abides. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. ioi 
 
 kindly, but Herod, whose heart " hoppis for joie" 
 at the prisoner's advent, expecting "gude game with 
 }ns boy," makes huge sport of Christ's silence, 
 shouting at Him as if He were deaf and plying Him 
 with Latin and with French. The soldiers, too, 
 make a jest of the "fool-king," answering even His 
 murmurs from the cross with brutal mockery. 
 
 " We ! harke ! he jangelis like a jay." 
 " Me thynke he patris like a py." x 
 
 ***** 
 
 " Yaa, late hym hynge here stille 
 And make mowes on the mone." 2 
 
 Akin to the gleams of spiritual discernment in 
 the York plays is the quiet light of homely beauty 
 shed over the domestic scenes. Joseph appears 
 throughout as a lovable rather than ridiculous figure. 
 His evening prayer is very human in its simplicity. 
 
 " Thow maker pat is most of myght, 
 To thy mercy I make my mone, 
 Lord ! se vnto pin symple wight 
 That hase non helpe but j-e allone. 
 For all jus worlde I haue for-saken, 
 And to thy seruice I haue me taken." 
 
 On the journey into Egypt, he comforts, protects, 
 and encourages the terrified young mother, bearing 
 the child on his own arm when her slighter arm is 
 
 1 chatters like a magpie. 2 grimaces to the moon. 
 
102 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 wearied. There is a genuinely domestic atmosphere, 
 by the way, about the hurried preparations for the 
 flight. Mary, too much distracted to aid, clasps the 
 child to her heart, while Joseph busies himself with 
 the packing, greatly concerned lest something be 
 forgotten, yet, although grumbling a little under his 
 breath, ever patient in answering the appeals of his 
 wife, who shows herself, on this occasion, no stronger 
 than a woman and no wiser than a girl. 
 
 Mary. Alias ! Joseph, for care ! 
 
 Why shuld I for-go hym, 
 
 My dere barne pat I bare? 
 Joseph. ]>at swete swayne yf pou saue, 
 
 Do tyte, pakke same oure gere, 
 
 And such smale harnes as we haue. 
 Mary. A ! leue Joseph, I may not bere. 
 Joseph. Bere arme? no, I trowe but small, 
 
 But god it wote I muste care for all, 
 
 For bed and bak, 
 
 And alle ]>e pakke 
 
 \dX nedis vnto vs. 
 
 * * * # * 
 
 But god graunte grace I noght for-gete 
 No tulles ]>at we shulde with vs take. 
 Mary. Alias ! Joseph, for greuaunce grete ! 
 Whan shall my sorowe slake, 
 For I wote noght whedir to fare. 
 Joseph. To Egipte talde I ]>e lang are. 1 
 
 1 long ago. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 103 
 
 Mary. Whare standith itt ? 
 Fayne wolde I witt. 
 Joseph. What wate I ? 
 
 I wote not where it standis. 
 Mary. Joseph, I aske mersy, 
 
 Helpe me oute of pis lande. 
 Joseph. Novve certis, Marie, I wolde full fayne, 
 Helpe pe al pat I may. 
 
 But loveliest of all is the Nativity pageant, where 
 we find Joseph and Mary taking shelter in a cattle- 
 shed at Bethlehem and enduring the rigours of such 
 Christmas weather as is better known to Yorkshire 
 than to Palestine. 
 
 Joseph. A ! lorde, what the wedir is colde ! 
 Mary, pe fellest freese pat euere I felyd, 
 I pray God helpe pam pat is aide, 
 And namely pam pat is vnwelde. 
 
 While Joseph is gone out for light and fuel, 
 Mary, whose heart is uplifted above all conscious- 
 ness of hardship and of pain, gives birth to the 
 Holy Child, and rejoices over Him with eager and 
 reverent devotion. 
 
 Mary. Nowe in my sawle grete joie haue I, 
 I am all cladde in comforte clere. 
 
 ^r ^ ^ $fc ^ 
 
 Jesu ! my son pat is so dere, 
 nowe borne is he. 
 
104 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Vowchesaffe, swete sone I pray pe, 
 
 That I myght \>e take in \ e armys of myne, 
 
 And in pis poure wede to arraie pe ; 
 
 Graunte me Ju blisse ! 
 As I am thy modir chosen to be 
 In sothfastnesse. 
 
 Joseph, nearing the shed, beholds a sudden light, 
 and enters to find the Child in Mary's arms. 
 
 Joseph. O Marie ! what swete thyng is pat on thy kne ? 
 
 On realising that the Christ is indeed come to 
 them, Joseph joins Mary in loving adoration. The 
 cattle know their Lord, and low from their stalls, so 
 wistful to render Him service that the parents lift 
 the little sleeper and lay Him softly in the manger, 
 that the beasts may cherish the tender body with 
 their warm breath. 
 
 Among the non-Biblical characters of the York 
 cycle are eight burgesses and two porters, the 
 second of these, hard to rouse, and of abusive 
 tongue, belonging to the type of Mystery porters 
 that fathered the porter in Macbeth. For even 
 Shakespeare owed so much of a direct debt to 
 these antiquated dramas, while Ben Jonson did 
 not scruple to borrow from them the " roaring 
 devil " which Shakespeare ridicules. The York col- 
 lection has fourteen pageants after the Crucifixion 
 and eight after the Resurrection, three of these 
 
MIRACLt PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 105 
 
 last dealing with the Madonna, her death, her 
 appearance to St. Thomas, and her coronation. 
 The relations between the Mother and Son are 
 lovingly depicted, for in this old York series, over 
 which a fragrance of incense seems to linger, the 
 devotional heart play, the fervours and the ten- 
 dernesses of mediaeval Christianity are especially 
 exemplified. 
 
 The Chester cycle has been the subject of much 
 critical discussion, with a view to ascertaining 
 whether it is a translation or an original work. 
 Five manuscripts are in existence, all transcripts 
 made in the end of the sixteenth century or begin- 
 ning of the seventeenth from a manuscript no longer 
 extant, but which modern scholars are tolerably 
 agreed in believing, on the evidence of language 
 and orthography as exhibited in the transcripts, 
 to be of no earlier date than the fourteenth century. 
 But the tradition that connects the Chester plays 
 with the name of Ralph Higden, a monk of Chester 
 in the fourteenth century, and the laborious author 
 of the Polychronicon, has exerted a more or less 
 direct influence upon all discussion of the cycle. 
 Warton, seconded by Malone, suggested that the 
 plays, as they have come down to us, might have 
 been Englished by Higden, under consent of the 
 Pope, from a Latin original now lost. Markland 
 thought there might have been a common Latin 
 
106 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 source from which both the Chester plays and the 
 French Mystere du vieil Testament were taken. 
 Collier broached the theory of direct translation 
 from the French. Marriott assented to Collier. 
 Ulrici admitted the remarkable coincidence of lan- 
 guage between the Chester plays and certain French 
 Mysteries, but still held to the possibility of a com- 
 mon Latin source. Ward and Wright leave the 
 question doubtful. Recent German criticism inclines 
 to the French hypothesis. 
 
 The Chester plays, like the other Miracles, nat- 
 urally fell into discredit after the Reformation, but 
 were nevertheless revived from time to time. Yet 
 the prefatory stanzas, known as Banes, delivered 
 upon the representation in June of 1600, reflect 
 an uneasy and apologetic spirit. The pageants, 
 twenty-five in number, beginning on Whit-Monday, 
 required three days for their presentation, and were 
 spiced with jocularity, being allied in this respect 
 to the Towneley cycle rather than to the York or 
 Coventry. The Chester pageant of the Flood is, 
 for instance, one of the most spirited and enter- 
 taining of all our English Mysteries. Noah enters 
 upon his task with enthusiasm, and all his house- 
 hold exhibit a most cheerful alacrity in helping the 
 work forward. Shem fetches his axe 
 
 " As sharpe as enye in alle this towne." 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. \oj 
 
 Ham produces a " hacchatt wounder keeyne," and 
 Japhet flourishes a hammer: — 
 
 " I can make well a pynne, 
 And with this hamer knocke it in." 
 
 Even Noah's wife, seconded by her flock of 
 daughters-in-law, promises to lend a hand, provided 
 that not too much is expected of her: — 
 
 " And we shall bringe tymber too, 
 For we mowe nothinge elles doe ; 
 Weraen be weeke to undergoe 
 Anye greate travill." 
 
 Shem's wife provides a chopping-block ; Ham's 
 wife collects pitch, and Japhet's wife gathers chips 
 to build a fire for dinner. 
 
 The ark is completed with lightning rapidity, 
 but not before Noah's wife has turned perverse. 
 It is all in vain that her husband entreats and 
 commands her to enter. The poor old patriarch 
 finds to his sorrow that the building of the ark was 
 but a trifle compared with the task of getting his 
 wife inside. ) 
 
 Noye. Good wyffe, doe nowe as I thee bydde. 
 Noyes Wiffe. Be Christe ! not or I see more neede, 
 Though thou stande all daye and stare. 
 Noye. Lorde, that wemen be crabbed aye, 
 And non are meke I dare well saye ; 
 That is well seene by me to daye, 
 In witnesse of you ichone. 
 
108 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Good wiffe, lett be all this beare, 
 That thou maiste in this place heare ; 
 For all the x wene that thou arte maister, 
 And soe thou arte, by Sante John ! 
 
 The beasts are driven in, the family take refuge, 
 1 but still this intractable old lady sits carousing with 
 her cronies over a pot of ale, and refuses to budge an 
 inch for all her husband's entreaties. 
 
 Noye. Wiffe, come in : why standes thou their ? 
 
 Thou arte ever frowarde, I dare well sweare ; 
 Come in, one Godes halfe ! tyme yt were, 
 For feare leste that we drowne. 
 Noyes Wiff. Yea, sir, sette up youer saile, 
 
 And rowe fourth with evill haile, 
 For withouten fayle 
 I will not oute of this toune ; 
 But I have my gossippes everyechone, 
 One foote further I will not gone : 
 The 1 shall not drowne, by Sante John ! 
 And I maye save ther life. 
 The 1 loven me full wel, by Christe ! 
 But thou lett them into thy cheiste, 
 Elles rowe nowe wher thy leiste, 
 And gette thee a newe wiffe. 
 Noye. Seme, sonne, loe ! thy mother is wrawe ; 
 Be God, such another I doe not knowe ! 
 Sem. Father, I shall fetch her in, I trowe, 
 Withoutten anye fayle. — 
 Mother, my father after thee sende, 
 And byddes thee into yeinder shippe wende. 
 
 1 they. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 109 
 
 Loke up and see the wynde, 
 For we bene readye to sayle. 
 Noyes Wife. Seme, goe againe to hym, and saie ; 
 I will not come theirin to daye. 
 Noye. Come in, wiffe, in twentye devilles waye ! 
 
 Or elles stand their all daye. 
 Cam. Shall we all feche her in? 
 Noye. Yea, sonnes, in Christe blessinge and myne ! 
 I woulde you hied you be tyme, 
 For of this flude I am in doubte. 
 The Good Gossippes Songe. The flude comes flittinge in 
 full faste, 
 One everye syde that spreades full farre ; 
 For feare of drown inge I am agaste ; 
 Good gossippes, lett us drawe nere. 
 And lett us drinke or we departe, 
 For ofte tymes we have done soe ; 
 For att a draughte thou drinkes a quarte, 
 And soe will I doe or I goe. 
 Heare is a pottill full of Malmsine good and 
 
 stronge ; 
 Itt will rejoyce bouth harte and tonge ; 
 Though Xoye thinke us never so longe, 
 Heare we will drinke alike. 
 
 While these merry matrons sing their tipsy song 
 — and a very good song it is, too, for a Mystery 
 poet to achieve — Noah's sons lift their mother in 
 their arms and bear her into the ark, where Noah 
 is so imprudent as to give her greeting : — 
 
 "Welckome, wife, into this bote ! " 
 
IIO THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Hereat the indignant dame, the very same who a 
 few hours ago had made the feebleness of woman- 
 kind her excuse for doing as little work as possible, 
 rewards him for his salute with a vigorous cuff. 
 
 " Have that for thy note ! " 
 
 And poor Noah, rubbing his ear ruefully, with- 
 draws discomfited: — 
 
 " Ha, ha ! marye, this is hotte ! 
 It is good for to be stille." 
 
 The Nativity play is another marked example of 
 the Chester playwright's turn for fun. Like the cor- 
 responding Towneley pageants, it gives a picture of 
 old-time rural life in northern England, with all its 
 coarseness, its homeliness, and not a little of its rogu- 
 ery and rollick. The first shepherd, Hancken, appears 
 drinking ; the second, Harvye, is darning his ragged 
 stocking with a crow's feather ; and Tudde, the third, 
 is scouring an old tin pan. They sup together, out 
 in the open fields, off Lancastershire oatcakes, " piggs 
 foote," English black puddings, and other non-Hebraic 
 viands. Their appetites appeased, they blow a horn 
 for the merry lad Trowle, on whom they would bestow 
 the leavings of their feast ; but these he rejects with 
 such contempt that a wrestling-bout ensues, in which 
 Trowle successively throws all three. While the 
 shepherds are still caressing their bruises, the star 
 shines out upon them and fills them with affright. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. in 
 
 " What is all this light here 
 That shynes so bright here 
 On my blacke bearde ? 
 For to see this sight here 
 A man may be afright here, 
 For I am aferde." 
 
 But as the heavenly anthem dies away and the 
 angel fades from view, their fear likewise vanishes, 
 and they fall to a ridiculous discussion of the Latin 
 words of the Gloria. 
 
 Tercius Pastor. Hit was glore glare with a glee, 
 Hit was nether more nor lesse. 
 Trowle. Nay, it was glori, glory, glorious ! 
 
 Me thoughte that note roune over the 
 
 howse : 
 A semlye man he was and curyous, 
 But sone awaie he was. 
 Primus Pastor. Naye, it was glory, glory, with a glo ! 
 And moche of cellsis was therto : 
 As ever have I reste or roo, 
 Moche he spake of glasse. 
 Secundus Pastor. Naye, yt was nether glasse nor glye ; 
 
 Therfore, fellowe, now stande by. 
 Tercius Pastor. By my faith ! he was some spie, 
 Our sheepe for to steale. 
 ***** 
 Secundus Pastor. Nay, be God ! it was a gloria, 
 
 Sayde Gabrill when he beganne so, 
 
 He hade a moche better voyce then I have, 
 
 As in heven all other have so. 
 
112 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 They conclude by striking up a song more to 
 their comprehension, " Singe troly loly troly loe," 
 and taking the way to Bethlehem. After poking 
 fun at Joseph's bushy white beard and chatting 
 sociably with Mary, they adore the Child, giving 
 him whatever they can spare from about their per- 
 sons. The little shepherd-boys follow suit, one pre- 
 senting his bottle, one his hood, one his pipe, and 
 the last his nuthook, so that 
 
 " To pulle doune aples, peares, and plumes, 
 Oulde Joseph shall not nede to hurte his thombes." 
 
 The shepherds withdraw in a far more spiritual 
 frame of mind than could have been expected of 
 them. Karvye proposes to turn preacher, Tudde 
 to go beyond the sea as an evangelist, Hancken to 
 roam the desert as a holy pilgrim, and Trowle to 
 take up the yet holier life of an anchorite. They 
 part with kisses and amens. 
 
 But in truth this boisterous dramatist of Chester, 
 quaint, mediaeval city that it yet is, so quaint and 
 so mediaeval that one would hardly be surprised to 
 come upon echoes of the Miracle-Play laughter still 
 reverberating under some arched and carven gate- 
 way, can be reverent as well as mirthful. The 
 Bethany pageant and the Last Supper pageant wit- 
 ness how devout his spirit really was. He can be 
 very tender, too, as in the farewell of Isaac, when 
 the boy lies bound upon the altar. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 113 
 
 Isaake. Father, greete well my brethren yonge, 
 
 And praye my mother of her blessinge. 
 I come noe more under her wynge, 
 Farewell for ever and aye. 
 Abraham. Harte, yf thou wouldest borste in three, 
 Thou shalte never master me ; 
 I will no longer let ' for thee ; 
 My God, I maye not greeve. 
 Isaake. A ! mercye, father, why tarye you soe ? 
 Smyte of my head and let me goe. 
 I praye ryde me of my woe, 
 For nowe I take my leve. 
 
 The Chester playwright, for all his hearty realism, 
 is not absolutely devoid of the sense of spiritual 
 things, although he sometimes makes an incongru- 
 ous jumble of the literal and the symbolic. In the 
 Adoration of the Magi, for example, the first king- 
 decides to give gold because the look of the place 
 is so mean that the mother must be poor ; the 
 second thinks incense might disguise the odours of 
 the stable; and the third presents ointment to assist 
 at the baby's toilet. And yet these offerings find 
 at the same time a deeper interpretation : — 
 
 " By these geiftes three of good araye, 
 Three things understande I maie, 
 A kinges power, sooth to saie, 
 By goulde heare in my hande ; 
 
 1 delay. 
 
114 7HE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 And for his godhead lasteth aye, 
 
 Incense we muste geve hym to daie ; 
 
 And bodelye death also, in good faye, 
 By myrre I understande." 
 
 This cycle contains a few unusual pageants, a 
 Balaam pageant, for one, and an Antichrist pag- 
 eant, the only English Miracle on that subject 
 extant, although Germany has a Latin Antichrist 
 play dating from the reign of the Emperor Bar- 
 barossa (1152-1190). The Ascension pageant would 
 seem to indicate that the Chester players were 
 ingenious in mechanical devices, for the central 
 scene, where Christ is clothed in blood-red gar- 
 ments and attended by a throng of spirits, takes 
 place in mid-air. The language here is Latin, and 
 something of the effect of the old liturgical dramas 
 is preserved. The Emission of the Holy Ghost, too, 
 naturally made the leading pageant of this Whit- 
 suntide cycle, is remarkable for aerial no less than 
 for fiery effects, — two angels, singing responsively 
 in the upper air, sprinkling flames over the heads of 
 the apostles. There are certain unique touches of 
 characterisation in the Chester cycle, as the concep- 
 tion of Cain, who is by disposition gentle and ami- 
 able, a fond son, and an enthusiastic farmer : — 
 
 " Mother, for south I tell yt thee, 
 A tylle man I am, and so will I be ; 
 As my daddye hath taughte yt me, 
 I will fulfill his lore," 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS- ENUMERATION. 115 
 
 but given to self-seeking : — 
 
 " Of corne I have greate pleintie, 
 Sacrifice to God, sone shall you see, 
 I will make, to loke yf he 
 Will sende me annye more." 
 
 In plot, too, the Chester playwright has devices 
 of his own, making, for example, one of the slaugh- 
 tered innocents the son of Herod, who, in the 
 midst of his reproaches and lamentations, falls a 
 prey to hideous disease and is borne away by a 
 demon, this ugly apparition lingering a moment 
 to warn the company that any man who deals in 
 Herod's sins may expect to share his fate. The 
 Chester corps of actors included a comic prologue- 
 speaker, Gobbet on the Green, and an expositor, 
 who sat on horseback near the scaffold, and from 
 time to time threw in explanations for the benefit 
 of the unlearned. At the close of the Doomsday 
 pageant, the four Evangelists appeared and recited a 
 species of epilogue to the entire cycle, to the effect 
 that, as they had set forth all this history in their 
 gospels, there was no excuse for men who did amiss. 
 But the jolly folk of Chester probably cared much 
 more for another of the distinctive personce of this 
 series, a loquacious woman whom Chester perhaps 
 had known as a brewer of adulterated ale and a 
 dealer in false measures, and who preferred, when 
 
Il6 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Christ harried hell and led the prisoners forth, to 
 stay behind with her friends the devils. 
 
 In addition to the scraps of Latin, which are in- 
 tended to dignify or sanctify the addresses of God, 
 Christ, and the angels, there is an admixture of 
 French in the speeches of these plays. Those who 
 believe the Chester cycle to have been Englished from 
 a French original consider such passages checked off 
 in the outset by the English pageant master, as su- 
 perfluous, and so left untranslated. But those who 
 claim that the cycle is originally of English composi- 
 tion observe that the French is used only by the three 
 kings of the east, Octavian and Herod, and hence con- 
 clude that the author deemed the court language of 
 Norman England appropriate for royal personages. 
 The verse of this Chester poet is fairly varied, and it 
 is noteworthy that the tormentors speak in the crisp 
 dimeter quatrains, which later, being adopted by Skel- 
 ton, became known as the Skeltonian stanza : — 
 
 " In woe he is wounden, 
 And his grave is gronden ; 
 No lade unto London 
 Suche lawe can hym lere." 1 
 
 Crude as all this Miracle verse is, a few lines 
 from the Chester plays lodge themselves in memory, 
 as the troubled words of Thomas : — 
 
 1 teach. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. \\j 
 
 " A mistye thinge it is to me 
 To have beleffe it shoulde so be," 
 
 or the sigh of the lonely disciples : — 
 
 " Peradventure God will shewe us grace 
 To se our Lorde in littill space, 
 And comforted for to be," 
 
 or the simple benediction : — 
 
 " Christ geve you grace to take the waie 
 Unto the joye that lasteth aye." 
 
 And there is force of tragic passion in the bitter 
 outcry of the queen, who is found at Doomsday 
 on the left hand of Christ, among her companions 
 in that darkness being, such was the audacity of our 
 Chester playwright, a pope of Rome. 
 
 The plays going by the name of the Coventry 
 Mysteries are not clearly proven to be the ones 
 which were played at Coventry. That this steepled 
 town was famous for its Corpus Christi pageants 
 is well known. It is recorded that in 1416 Henry V. 
 went to see them, Queen Margaret in 1456, Richard 
 III. in 1484, Henry VII. in i486, and Henry VII. with 
 his queen in 1492. On this last occasion the plays 
 are mentioned as the plays of the Grey Friars. Of 
 all these royal visits the most interesting notice ex- 
 tant concerns Queen Margaret's, — a notice occur- 
 ring in the manuscript annals of Coventry: "On 
 Corpus Christi yeven at nyght came the quene from 
 
Il8 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Kelyngworth to Coventry, at which tyme she wold not 
 be met, but came privily to se the play there on the 
 morowe, and she sygh then alle the pagentes pleyde 
 save domes day, which might not be pleyde for lak of 
 day, and she was loged at Richard Wodes the groc'r." 
 Besides these records, we have the often-quoted 
 passage from Hey wood's Interlude of the Four PP : — 
 
 " For as good happe wolde have it chaunce, 
 Thys devyll and I were of olde acqueyntaunce ; 
 For oft, in the play of Corpus Christi, 
 He hath played the devyll at Coventry." 
 
 It is evident, then, that Coventry had a widespread 
 reputation for Corpus Christi plays. But by whom 
 were these plays performed ? By the craft-guilds, 
 as at Wakefield, York, and Chester? Or by the 
 Grey Friars, whose pageants Henry VII. took his 
 queen to see so near the close of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury ? And is this unique quarto manuscript, dated 
 1468, in the Cottonian library of the British Museum, 
 a collection of Coventry plays at all, or is the title a 
 misnomer ? On the fly-leaf of the manuscript, in the 
 handwriting of Dr. Richard James, librarian to Sir 
 Robert Cotton, appears the following inscription : 
 " Contenta Novi Testamenti scenice expressa et 
 actitata olim per monachos sive fratres mendicantes: 
 vulgo dicitur hie liber Ludus Coventriae, sive Ludus 
 Corporis Christi: scribitur metris Anglicanis." 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 119 
 
 This volume does not contain the Corpus Christi 
 plays acted by the Coventry guilds. Such plays 
 there were, but the guild account-books and what 
 little survives of the pageant text establish the 
 fact that the guild plays were other than these. 
 Are the plays of the manuscript, then, plays acted 
 at Coventry by the Grey Friars? Would the same 
 town have maintained two cycles of Mysteries — 
 one performed by the trades and one by the friars ? 
 There is significance, too, in the concluding lines 
 of the prologue or proclamation, cried through the 
 streets a few days in advance of the time fixed for 
 the representation of the play by heralds who, as 
 they went, waved banners inscribed with sacred 
 emblems : — 
 
 " A Sunday next, yf that we may, 
 
 At vj of the belle we gynne oure play, 
 In N. (omen) towne, wherfore we pray, 
 That God now be youre spede." 
 
 Does not this savour more of a strolling company 
 of actors than of a body of friars resident in Cov- 
 entry ? Yet Coventry friars might sometimes have 
 consented to play in neighbouring towns, and the 
 general character of the plays points more directly 
 than usual to ecclesiastical authorship. So high an 
 authority as Ten Brink, however, although inclined 
 to believe that Coventry witnessed a dramatic rivalry 
 
120 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 between the Guilds and the Franciscans, assigns 
 this so-called Coventry collection to the north-east 
 of the Midlands, where the internal evidence, both 
 literary and linguistic, would seem to place it. At 
 all events, we have here a valuable cycle of Mys- 
 teries apparently independent of the York and 
 Towneley groups, or their common original, if such 
 they had, on the one hand, and of the Chester 
 group on the other. 
 
 . he three most striking features of the Coventry 
 series are the sobriety of treatment, amounting to 
 dullness, the pronounced Mariolatry, and the fore- 
 shadowing of the Moralities by the introduction of 
 abstract characters. The versification is monoto- 
 nous, and poetic magic almost altogether wanting, 
 although the lament of the Madonna is not with- 
 out a touch of tragic power. 
 
 " A ! A ! A ! how myn hert is colde ! 
 
 A ! hert hard as ston, how mayst thou lest ? 
 Whan these sorweful tydynges are the told, 
 
 So wold to God, hert, that thou mytyst brest. 
 A ! Jhesu ! Jhesu ! Jhesu ! Jhesu ! 
 
 Why xuld ye sofere this trybulacyon and advercyte ? 
 How may thei fynd in here hertys yow to pursewe, 
 
 That nevyr trespacyd in no maner degre ? 
 For nevyr thyng but that was good thowth ye, 
 
 Wherfore than xuld ye sofer this gret peyn ? 
 I suppoce veryly it is for the tresspace of me, 
 
 And I wyst that myn hert xuld cleve on tweyn." 
 
MIR A CLE PL A \ S — ENUMERA TION. 1 2 1 
 
 It will be noticed that here, as in the Chester plays, 
 in contradistinction from the York and Towneley, 
 the dialogue is seldom allowed to break in upon the 
 regular succession of complete stanzas. The pag- 
 eants are forty-two in number, of which seven only 
 are concerned with the Old Testament, carrying the 
 familiar story forward in careful verse, plain manner, 
 and decorous tone. Even Cain is respectful, and 
 when Adam bids him go with Abel to sacrifice, 
 utters no further remonstrance than 
 
 " I had levyr gon hom welle ffor to dyne." 
 
 It is true that he lays his poorest sheaf upon the 
 altar, but he has a reason for it : — 
 
 " What were God the better, thou sey me tylle, 
 To yeven hym awey my best sheff, 
 And kepe myself the wers ? 
 He wylle neyther ete nor drynke, 
 ffor he doth neyther swete nor swynke." 
 
 Noah's wife, too, is a disappointingly pious, loving, 
 and well-conducted woman, who enters the ark with 
 thanksgiving. Into this pageant is introduced a curi- 
 ous episode, — blind Lamech with his broad arrow 
 shooting Cain, who, lurking in the bushes, was mis- 
 taken for a wild beast by Lamech's youthful guide. 
 The old archer, discovering what he has done, and 
 remembering God's curse on the slayer of Cain, in 
 fury raises his bow and beats out the brains of the 
 
122 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 poor lad who guided his aim amiss. A Latin hymn 
 is sung by the family in the ark, this series, indeed, 
 being remarkable for the number of chants inter- 
 spersed with the dialogue. The play of Abraham 
 and Isaac affords no relief in this colourless Cov- 
 entry treatment. Abraham vents the conventional 
 lamentations, but without the fierce conflict of emo- 
 tions that is at least hinted in the other cycles, and 
 Isaac is a painful little prig. 
 
 Ysaac. ffadyr, fyre and wood here is plente, 
 But I kan se no sacryfice ; 
 What ye xulde offre fain wold I se, 
 That it were don at the best avyse. 
 
 The two concluding Old Testament pageants 
 savour more of the pulpit than the stage. In one 
 Moses expounds the Ten Commandments, and in the 
 other the Hebrew kings and prophets set forth the 
 genealogy of Christ. 
 
 The Gospel pageants, though scarcely more spir- 
 ited, have the interest of fresh material in con- 
 nection with the Virgin Mary, who first appears, a 
 child of three years, dressed in white, being con- 
 ducted by her parents to the Temple. The high 
 priest is charmed with her sweet looks and with 
 the remarkable facility with which she recites and 
 expounds the fifteen psalms, which are the fifteen 
 degrees from Babylon to Jerusalem. No wonder 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 123 
 
 he exclaims, when the child's voice finally ceases, 
 that it is "an hey meracle." More conversation of 
 devotional tenor follows and a throng of " blyssyd 
 maydens," bearing the names of various virtues, 
 are presented to Mary as her companions and at- 
 tendants. Joachim and Anna return home, Mary 
 prays before the altar, and an angel " bryngyth 
 manna in a coupe of gold lyke to confeccions," 
 pronouncing an anagram on the name Maria. 
 Another angel brings more gifts, and an additional 
 present is sent by the bishop. But the little girl 
 in the white frock bestows these treasures upon 
 the needy, showing already a merciful heart toward 
 the poor : — 
 
 " Pore ffolk ffaryn God knowyth how, 
 On hem evyr I have grett pety." 
 
 An interval of ten years is supposed to pass 
 before the events recorded in the next pageant, 
 Marys BetrotJunent, which discloses all the bache- 
 lors in the line of David, summoned by the Bishop, 
 standing in the Temple bearing peeled white rods. 
 The rod of the old Joseph flowers, thus designat- 
 ing him, much to his discomfiture, as Mary's hus- 
 band. In connection with the backward behaviour 
 of Joseph on this occasion, even the grave poet 
 of the Ludus Coventrice cannot resist a passing 
 smile. 
 
124 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Joseph. A ! shuld I have here? ye lese my lyff: 
 Alas ! dere God, xuld I now rave ? 
 An old man may nevyr thriff 
 With a yonge wyff, so God me save ! 
 
 The lame old bridegroom is obliged to hobble to 
 the altar, but continues his protests even there. 
 Joseph's actions, however, are better than his 
 words. As Mary is to take three attendant maid- 
 ens with her, the poor carpenter, after hiring for 
 this unexpected family a "lytyl praty hous " at 
 Nazareth, goes away for the next nine months 
 
 to labour 
 
 " in fere countre, 
 
 With trewthe to maynteyn our housholde so." 
 
 In conformity with the general tendency of this 
 cycle, the pageant describing the ascension of Mary 
 is seven times as long as that describing the ascen- 
 sion of Christ. Miracles are wrought about her 
 bier, and her soul is crowned by Christ 
 
 " Queen of Hefne and Moder of Mercy," 
 
 the archangel Michael announcing : — 
 
 " Hefne and erthe in joye may be, 
 ffor God throw Mary is mad mannys frend." 
 
 The Morality element, too, in these Ludus Coven- 
 trice, while marking them as a late cycle, is accept- 
 able to the reader in that it makes for novelty. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 125 
 
 Contemplation is a conspicuous figure, speaking 
 prologues and epilogues, acting as expositor, and 
 bearing a part in that heavenly scene where the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, with various per- 
 sonified qualities, hold council together. We are 
 here very close upon the Moralities, as we see 
 Mercy and Truth meeting, and Justice and Peace 
 kissing each other. Mors, too, a grisly personage 
 well known to the Morality stage, appears at Herod's 
 feast, standing behind the seat of the tyrant who, 
 all unaware of that menacing shadow, urges on the 
 revelry. After Mors has smitten down the cruel 
 king and his two murderous knights, another famous 
 Morality character, the Devil, has a part to play, seiz- 
 ing upon these sinful souls with the grim jest : — 
 
 " Alle oure ! alle oure ! this catel is myn ! 
 I zalle hem brynge onto my celle ! 
 I xal hem teche pleys fyn, 
 
 And shewe suche myrthe as is in helle ! " 
 
 The Devil takes much more upon him in the 
 Coventry series than in any of the earlier cycles. 
 As a prologue to the council of the Jews, he de- 
 livers a long harangue, containing some striking 
 passages of dramatic satire, perhaps the earliest 
 in English literature, directed against the fopperies 
 of the day. He lurks in the background of the 
 Last Supper, exulting when Judas rises and goes 
 
126 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 out into the darkness. He whispers a dream into 
 the sleeping ear of Pilate's wife, and while Jesus 
 is being reclothed on the scaffold after the scourg- 
 ing, Satan enters " in the most orryble wyse " on 
 the ground below, and proceeds to divert the au- 
 dience with buffoonery. He has little opportunity, 
 however, to win plaudits in the Harrowing of Hell, 
 as in the Coventry cycle this pageant is appar- 
 ently short, although there may have been more 
 in the way of dumb-show than appears from the 
 text. 
 
 Apart from the Mariolatry and Morality features, 
 these Gospel pageants present little of note. The 
 fourteenth play is unique among the Mysteries, 
 being a rugged, vigorous description, with coarse 
 jests and sly, satiric touches, of an ecclesiastical 
 court. 
 
 In this fourteenth pageant the Sompnour opens 
 proceedings with a genuine bit of comic rhyme, 
 hardly Hebraic in suggestion, but calculated, if 
 well bawled, to rouse huge mirth in an audience 
 whose ears would not. only be tickled by the rough- 
 and-ready alliteration, but would often be greeted 
 in the medley by the sound of a familiar name, — 
 that of some rustic, whose startled, sheepish looks 
 would enhance the mirth of his neighbours. 
 
 " Avoyd, seres, and lete my lorde the buschop come, 
 And syt in the courte the lawes ffor to doo \ 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 127 
 
 And I xal gon in this place them for to somowne, 
 Tho that ben in my book the court ye must com too. 
 I warne you here alle abowte, 
 That I somown you alle the rowte, 
 Loke ye fayl, for no dowte, 
 
 At the court to pere. 
 Bothe John Jurdon, and Geffrey Gyle, 
 Malkyn Mylkedoke, and fayr Mabyle, 
 Stevyn Sturdy, and Jak at the Style, 
 
 And Sawdyr Sadelere. 
 
 " Thorn Tynkere and Betrys Belle, 
 Peyrs Potter and Whatt at the Welle, 
 Symme Smalfeyth and Kate Kelle, 
 
 And Bertylmen the Bochere. 
 Kytt Cakelere and Colett Crane, 
 Gylle Fetyse and fayr Jane, 
 Powle Pevvterere and Pernel Prane, 
 
 And Phelypp the good Flecchere. 
 
 " Cok Crane and Davy Drydust, 
 Luce Lyere and Letyce Lytyltrust, 
 Miles the Myllere and Colle Crakecrust, 
 
 Bothe Bette the Bakere, and Robyn Rede. 
 And loke ye rynge wele in your purs, 
 ffor ellys your cawse may spede the wurs, 
 Thow that ye slynge Goddys curs 
 
 Evyn at myn hede, ffast com away. 
 Bothe Bontyng the Browstere, and Sybyly Slynge, 
 Megge Merywedyr and Sabyn Sprynge, 
 Tyffany Twynkelere, ffayle ffor nothynge, 
 
 The courte xal be this day." 
 
128 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 The shepherd pageant has no comic features. 
 The play opens with the angel-song. The shepherds 
 listen, recite Messianic prophecies, and are guided by 
 the star to the manger, where they adore the Child in 
 verse which rises much above the level of the ordi- 
 nary jog-trot stanza of this cycle. The Magi pageant, 
 too, is distinguished by the lightness of its cadences, 
 as well as by a remarkably fine Herod with an extraor- 
 dinary penchant, which the Devil shares, for allitera- 
 tion. The mockery of Jesus is by no means given the 
 prominence or the jocular variety that it had in the 
 earlier cycles. In the Resurrection pageant, the sol- 
 diers, overcome with sleep, confide the care of the 
 tomb to Mahomet. The short, abrupt stanzas seem to 
 correspond to the sudden nods of their drowsy heads. 
 
 Primus miles. Myn heed dullyth, 
 Myn herte ffullyth 
 
 Of sslepp. 
 Seynt Mahownd 
 This beryenge ground 
 
 Thou kepp ! 
 
 Secundus miles. I sey the same, 
 
 ffor any blame, 
 
 I falle. 
 Mahownd whelpe, 
 Aftyr thin helpe 
 
 I calle ! 
 Tertius miles. I am hevy as leed, 
 ffor any dred 
 
 I slepe. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 129 
 
 Mahownd of myght 
 This ston to nyght 
 Thou kepe ! 
 
 Before leaving the Coventry plays, it should be said 
 that there is some reason to suppose that the Pas- 
 sion pageants of this manuscript belong to a different 
 cycle altogether. They are opened by a sacred pro- 
 cession, whose various personages, Father, Son, Holy 
 Ghost, the twelve apostles, Paul, and John the Baptist 
 are made known to the audience by antiphonal stan- 
 zas delivered by two doctors. When Herod, who may 
 have been also a figure in the procession, has taken 
 his scaffold, "and Pylat and Annas and Cayphas 
 here schaffaldys," Contemplation speaks a prologue 
 to this new series. 
 
 Of the Corpus Christi pageants acted by the 
 guilds of Coventry something can be learned through 
 their old account-books and their two surviving 
 plays, a Purification of the Virgin, acted by the 
 Weavers, and a rambling, mutilated Christmas Mys- 
 tery, acted by the Barbers and Tailors. These are 
 of little dramatic merit, but an appendix contains 
 words and music for three not untuneful songs, 
 which really reduce themselves to two, the Shep- 
 herds' Song and the Song of the Bethlehem Mothers. 
 The Shepherds' Song runs as follows : — 
 
 " As I out rode this enderes ' night, 
 Of thre joli sheppardes I saw a sight ; 
 1 last. 
 
130 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 And all a bowte there fold, a stare shone bright ; 
 
 They sange terli terlovve, 
 
 So mereli the sheppardes there pipes can blow. 
 
 " Doune from heaven, from heaven so hie, 
 Of angeles ther came a great com'panie, 
 With mirthe and joy and great solemnitye ; 
 The sange terly terlow, 
 So mereli the sheppards ther pipes can blow." 
 
 The other seems to have been sung as solo and 
 chorus. 
 
 " O sisters too, 1 how may we do, 
 For to preserve this day, 
 This pore yongling, for whom we do singe 
 By by, lully, lullay. 
 
 Lully, lulla, yow littell tine childe, 
 By by, lully, lullay, yow littell tyne child, 
 By by, lully, lullay. 
 
 " Herod the king, in his raging, 
 Chargid he hath this day ; 
 His men of might, in his owne sight, 
 All yonge children to slay. ( C/io.) 
 
 " That wo is me, pore child, for thee, 
 And ever morne and say ; 
 For thi parting, nether say nor singe, 
 By by, lully, lullay." (Cho.) 
 
 Allusion should be made to one other Coventry 
 pageant, — the old Hox Tuesday Play, an annual 
 
 1 two. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 131 
 
 performance of ancient date in memory of a tradi- 
 tional victory gained by the good citizens of Coven- 
 try and their neighbours over the Danes in 1002. 
 The derivation of this word Hox is disputed, but 
 the pageant appears to 'have been a mimicry of 
 battle. 
 
 Cornwall has a fourteenth-century cycle of Corpus 
 Christi pageants. These plays, written in Cornish, 
 are highly valued by philologists as constituting the 
 most important relic known to exist of the Keltic 
 dialect as once spoken in Cornwall. Of their liter- 
 ary value it is difficult to judge through the medium 
 of translation, but they are evidently distinguished 
 by an absence of the comic element, a great liking 
 for argumentation, and free play of the wild and 
 symbolic Keltic imagination. In general scope they 
 correspond with the English Miracle Cycles, for 
 although but three main titles are given in connec- 
 tion with this series, Origo Mundi, Passio Domini 
 Nostri, and Resurrexio Domini Nostri, the Cornwall 
 plays in reality fill two octavo volumes, follow a 
 long sweep of Scriptural history, and occupied three 
 days in the presentation. Origo Mundi was given 
 on the first day, and although the story flows on 
 without breaks, this play actually embraces, first, 
 The Temptation and Fall, in which the earth is 
 made to cry out, as the cursed and exiled Adam 
 strives to dig, nor will the soil cease resisting and 
 
132 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 lamenting, until God comes down from heaven with 
 rebuke ; second, Cain and Abel, in which the body 
 of poor Abel is dragged off the stage by Beelzebub 
 and Satan ; third, The Birth of SetJi ; fourth, The 
 Death of Adam, including the legend of Seth's 
 journey to Paradise to beg the oil of heavenly 
 mercy for his father, who is about to die, and con- 
 tent to die, for 
 
 " Strong are the roots of the briars, 
 That my arms are broken, 
 Tearing up many of them," 
 
 — a journey successful in that a cherub shows Seth 
 the Tree of Life in Paradise, a tree lofty with many 
 boughs, but bare and leafless, with roots piercing 
 down to hell and branches growing high to heaven, 
 with an ugly serpent coiled about the trunk and a 
 new-born child in swaddling clothes shining in the 
 summit, this child the oil of mercy for Adam and 
 all his sons, — a journey from which Seth brings 
 back three seeds of the apple Adam bit, and, by 
 command of the cherub, lays them on his dead 
 father's tongue and presently beholds three rods 
 spring from the grave ; fifth, Noah, his wife being 
 gentle and obedient, and the scene laid largely in 
 the ark and on Mount Ararat; sixth, Abraham; 
 seventh, Moses and PJiaraoJi, carrying the story far 
 on into the experiences of the wilderness, and con- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 133 
 
 eluding with the death of Moses, who, just before 
 yielding up his spirit into the hands of God, plants 
 again on Mount Tabor the three bright, miracle- 
 working rods which he had found growing in the 
 desert ; eighth, David, who, bidden of Gabriel in a 
 dream, journeys to Mount Tabor on his yellow 
 courser and finds there the rods of grace, growing 
 green and of marvellous fragrance, which he cuts and 
 brings to Jerusalem, and would have planted there 
 that they might be ready at need to fashion the 
 cross of the Son of Man, but in the one night that 
 King David left them lying, under guard, on the 
 fair turf, the three rods planted themselves, and by 
 morning were united into one, an emblem of the 
 divine Unity in Trinity; ninth, Bathsheba, the old, 
 tragic history; tenth, Solomon, who rewards his 
 workmen with various Cornish parishes for their 
 exertions in building the Temple, and makes his 
 favourite councillor first bishop ; and eleventh, Maxi- 
 milla, earliest of the Christian martyrs, a maiden 
 who, having come into the Temple, where one beam, 
 with which no other wood can be made to corre- 
 spond, is wrought of the sacred tree, and having 
 seated herself (somewhat indiscreetly, it would ap- 
 pear) upon a stove, calls upon the Lord Jesus 
 Christ to extinguish her burning garments, and on 
 the contemptuous rebuke of the bishop, who has 
 never heard that name, expounds the mystery of 
 
134 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Trinity and foretells that Christ shall be born of 
 a virgin, a saying for which she is brutally stoned 
 and buffeted to death by order of the bishop, who 
 commands the executioners further to cast out from 
 the Temple the sacred beam, which, heavy on their 
 shoulders and working miracles all the way, is finally 
 thrown as a bridge over the water of Kedron. 
 
 With Passio Domini, the theme of the second 
 day, comes a change of handwriting, and a marked 
 change of tone, due largely, no doubt, to the nature 
 of the subject. The play of fancy is severely cur- 
 tailed, and but few legends are allowed to mingle 
 with the Scriptural narrative. There is dignity, 
 but not great power or pathos, in the treatment 
 of the central figure. The violence and coarse 
 brutality of the soldiers are elaborated, as is also 
 the smithcraft of the Crucifixion. In case of 
 several of the lower characters, there are passing 
 touches of comedy. The play does not embrace 
 the birth and childhood of our Lord, but opens 
 with the temptation in the wilderness, Christ being 
 attended by His disciples. The action then moves 
 on through the scenes of Passion Week, — the entry 
 into Jerusalem, Christ giving His blessing to the 
 children who scatter palms before Him and sing 
 Hosanna; the cleansing of the Temple, Pilate, who 
 has come in to pray to Jupiter, being annoyed by 
 the interruption to the fair ; the healing of the man 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 135 
 
 born blind, Pilate and Caiaphas standing by ; the 
 supper at the house of Simon the Leper, with 
 Iscariot's wrath over the waste of ointment ; the 
 bargain of Judas with Caiaphas, who is attended 
 by a voluble crozier-bearer ; the Last Supper; the 
 agony in Gethsemane ; the betrayal ; the denial ; the 
 ecclesiastical trials before Annas and Caiaphas ; 
 the despair and suicide of Judas, whose soul will 
 not, after the manner of souls, escape through his 
 mouth, because by a kiss he had betrayed his 
 Master ; the secular trials before Pilate and Herod 
 and Pilate again ; the warning given by Beelzebub 
 to Pilate's wife in a dream ; Pilate's efforts to rescue 
 Christ; the scourging and the mocking; further 
 delay of Pilate ; the sulky refusals of the jailer 
 Sharp whip to bring out his prisoners ; much argu- 
 ment by the learned Doctors ; the condemnation ; 
 the fashioning a cross of the sacred beam brought 
 from Kedron ; the Via Dolorosa ; the unwillingness 
 of the Christian smith, angrily berated therefor by 
 his wife, to make the spikes for nailing his Master 
 to the cross ; the Crucifixion; the lament of Mary; 
 the death of Jesus ; the dismay of Lucifer ; the de- 
 scent from the cross, the embalming and the burial. 
 
 The third day's play, Resurrexio Domini Nostri, 
 sets forth the imprisonment under nine keys of 
 Nicodemus and Joseph, that they may not steal 
 away the body of their Master; the harrowing of 
 
136 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 hell, one plucky demon proposing to die in making 
 up the fire under the kettle wherein he has 
 
 " More than a million souls, 
 In a very fair broth ; " 
 
 the rescue, by the Spirit of Christ, of hell's pris- 
 oners, sent to Paradise under Michael's escort ; the 
 Spirit's return to the sepulchre with a company 
 of angels ; the Resurrection of Christ in the body ; 
 His appearance to the Madonna ; the report to 
 Pilate of the sleep-overpowered soldiers, who, stung 
 by the governor's reproaches, ask after the safety 
 of his prisoners Joseph and Nicodemus, thus found 
 to have escaped ; the arrival of the three Marys at 
 the sepulchre ; Christ's appearance to Mary Magda- 
 lene ; her message to the disciples ; a long argument 
 of Mary and the ten with the unbelieving Thomas ; 
 the journey to Emmaus ; renewed and greatly pro- 
 longed discussion with Thomas, and his final per- 
 suasion of the truth of the Resurrection. Then 
 comes a tissue of legends relating to Pilate, on 
 whom the odium of the Crucifixion is made to rest. 
 Tiberius Caesar sends to Pilate for the celebrated 
 leech, Jesus of Nazareth, to heal him of his leprosy. 
 There returns to Caesar a messenger from Veronica, 
 bearing her sacred handkerchief, the Veronique, 
 which works a miraculous cure on the Roman 
 Emperor. In gratitude he consents to Veronica's 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 137 
 
 urgency and orders the execution of Pilate, but 
 the gracious influence of the seamless vesture, now 
 possessed and worn by Pilate, protects the criminal. 
 The robe is removed by force, and Pilate, despair- 
 ing, stabs himself in the heart ; but even then may 
 with difficulty be disposed of, for the earth violently 
 rejects his body, which comes bounding up again 
 as soon as ever it is buried, and which, though 
 enclosed in an iron box, stains the waters of the 
 Tiber black, until at last a rock in the sea splits 
 open and the devils receive Pilate to themselves. 
 The play closes with the Ascension of Christ from 
 His weeping company of followers on earth to the 
 hosts of heaven, where He is beset with questions 
 from nine most inquisitive angels. The Emperor 
 speaks the prologue, succinctly reviewing the sacred 
 history and ending with the words : — 
 
 " Now minstrels, pipe diligently, 
 That we may go to dance." 
 
 An ancient Cornish poem, entitled The Passion, — 
 a poem of over a thousand lines, covering the period 
 from the temptation through the Resurrection, — 
 holds the same relation to the Cornish series of 
 Passion pageants that Cursor Mundi holds to the 
 English Miracle Cycles. 
 
 The Cornish plays were acted in circular or 
 semicircular stone enclosures, with stone benches 
 
138 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 or seats of turf for the spectators. Traces of these 
 mediaeval theatres are still to be seen in Cornwall. 
 Of the Dublin cycle the text of one pageant 
 only remains, an Abraham and Isaac, performed 
 by the Weavers. This is a surprisingly fresh treat- 
 ment of the familiar story, standing alone among 
 the six extant Miracles upon this theme in its intro- 
 duction of Sara among the dramatis persona. Her 
 continual anxiety for Isaac appears even in her 
 farewell words to her husband : — 
 
 " All thing is redy, I you say ; 
 But, gentil hert, I you pray, 
 Tarry as litel while out as ye may, 
 Be cause of Isaac, my sonn." 
 
 On learning his doom, the boy's first question is 
 whether his mother knows of it. Abraham an- 
 swers : — 
 
 " She ? nay son, Crist for bede. 
 Nay, to telle her it is no nede, 
 For whan that ever she knoweth this dede, 
 She wol ete affter but litel brede." 
 
 And this play, instead of concluding, like the others, 
 on the mountain-top or at its foot, swings about the 
 entire circle and has the final scene at home, where 
 the story is related to Sara, who clasps her recovered 
 child, while the patriarch turns toward the audience 
 to enforce the moral : — 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 139 
 
 " Now ye that have sene this aray, 
 I warne you all, bothe nyght and day, 
 What God comanndeth say not nay, 
 For ye shal not lese therby." 
 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne had once a series of sixteen 
 plays, from which a solitary Noah's Ark has floated 
 down the flood of years. This is an especially absurd 
 version, brief, abrupt, and original. God sends an 
 angel to bid Noah build the ark. Noah, awakened 
 out of sound sleep, greets the angel peevishly: — 
 
 " What art thou for Heaven's King, 
 That wakens Noah off his sleeping ? 
 Away I would thou wend." 
 
 Noah's ill-humour is by no means lessened when he 
 understands what a task lies before him. He objects 
 that he is six hundred winters old and with no knowl- 
 edge of boat-building. 
 
 " Christ be the shaper of this ship, 
 For a ship need make I must," 
 
 he groans, and sets about the work. 
 
 Then the Devil appears, announcing his intention 
 to have an interview on this business with his friend, 
 Noah's wife. At first she receives his warning 
 against Noah and the ark with rebuke. 
 
 " Go devel, how say, for shame," 
 
140 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 But the Devil insists. 
 
 " I swear thee by my crooked snout, 
 All that thy husband goes about 
 Is little for thy profit." 
 
 As a result of the Devil's suggestion, Noah's wife, 
 when at evening the old man comes in weary from 
 his work, plies him with drink, learns his secret, and 
 then upbraids him furiously. 
 
 " Who devil made thee a wright, 
 God give him evil to fare. 
 
 The devil of hell thee speed, 
 To ship when thou shalt go." 
 
 Noah calls on God for help, and an angel comes 
 to his rescue, whereupon the pageant precipitately 
 ends with an address to the audience from the 
 Devil. 
 
 " All that is gathered in this stead, 
 And will not believe in me, 
 I pray to Dolphin prince of dead, 
 Scald you all in his lead 1 
 That never a one of you thrive nor thee." 2 
 
 Before leaving the subject of Miracle Cycles for 
 that of isolated pageants, notice should be taken of 
 two curious dramatic productions once pertaining to 
 
 1 chaldron. 2 prosper. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 141 
 
 York, the Play of Our Lord 's Prayer and the Creed 
 Play. The first of these was a favourite with the 
 city, a guild of men and women being formed for 
 the express purpose of keeping it up. Their play- 
 book can be traced down to 1572, when it passed 
 into the hands of the Archbishop of York, and reap- 
 peared no more. Apparently it was rather a Moral- 
 ity than a Mystery, holding up the virtues to praise 
 and the vices to scorn. It seems to have had sev- 
 eral pageants to correspond with the several clauses 
 of the Paternoster. Its date is undiscovered, but 
 Wyclif, who died in 1384, knew of it. In advocat- 
 ing a vernacular translation of the Bible, he refers 
 to " ]>e paternoster in engli^sch tunge, as men seyen 
 in |>e pley of York." The Creed Play had also 
 a guild of its own, and may have been constructed 
 upon much the same plan as the other, which 
 was probably the predecessor; but this play, too, 
 is lost. 
 
 Where references exist to the representation of 
 isolated pageants in old English towns, there is room 
 for the presumption that such pageants were but 
 leaves from the cyclic play-book. Where we have, 
 as in a few instances, the text of these fragments, 
 the presumption is usually strengthened. 
 
 Norfolk has an Abraham and Isaac, the sixth 
 English play on that subject known to be extant. 
 The name appears, too, in the list of plays per- 
 
142 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 formed at Beverly and Newcastle-on-Tyne. This 
 is the longest of the six, and excels the other ver- 
 sions in liveliness of dialogue, truthful touches of 
 child-nature, and varied play of parental and devout 
 emotions. 
 
 Abraham. Now ysaac, my ovvyne son dere, 
 
 Wer art thow, chyld ? Speke to me. 
 Ysaac. My fader, swet fader, I am here, 
 
 And make my preyrys to the trenyte. 
 Abraham. Rysse up, my chyld, and fast cum heder, 
 My gentyll barn that art so wysse, 
 For we to, chyld, must goo togeder, 
 And on-to my lord make sacryffyce. 
 Ysaac. I am full redy, my fader, loo ! 
 
 Yevyn at yowr handes I stand ryght here. 
 And wat so ever ye bid me doo, 
 Yt schall be don with glad cher, 
 Full wyll and fyne. 
 Abraham. A ! ysaac, my owyn son soo dere, 
 
 Godes blyssyng I yffe thee and myn. 
 Hold thys fagot up on thi bake, 
 And her my selffe fyer schall bryng. 
 Ysaac. Fader all thys here wyll I packe, 
 
 I am full fayn to do yowr bedyng. 
 Abraham. A ! lord of hevyn, my handes I wryng, 
 
 Thys chyldes wordes all to wond my harte. 
 Now ysaac, son, goo we owr wey 
 
 On to yon mounte, with all owr mayn. 
 Ysaac. Gowe my dere fader as fast as I may, 
 To folow you I am full fayn, 
 All thow I be slendyr. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 143 
 
 A ! lord ! my hart brekyth on tvveyn, 
 Thys chyldes wordes, they be so tender. 
 
 Ysaac. Ya ! fader, but my hart begynnyth to quake, 
 To se that scharpe sword in yowr hond. 
 Wy bere ye yowr sword drawyn soo? 
 
 Off yowre conwnanns l I have mych wonder. 
 A ! fader of hevyn, so I am noo ! 
 
 Thys chyld her brekys my harte on too. 
 Ysaac. Tell me, my dere fader, or that ye ses, 
 Ber ye yowr sword draw for me ? 
 A ! ysaac, swet son, pes ! pes ! 
 
 For i-wys thou breke my harte on thre. 
 Ysaac. Now trewly sum-wat, fader, ye thynke, 
 That ye morne thus more and more. 
 A ! lord of hevyn, thy grace let synke, 
 For my hart wos never halffe so sore. 
 Ysaac. I preye yow, fader, that ye wyll let me that wyt, 
 Wyther schall I have ony harme or noo ? 
 I-wys, swet son, I may not tell the zyt, 
 My hart ys now soo full of woo. 
 
 On hearing at last the doom in store, Isaac, 
 although he submits, unwilling that his father 
 should incur God's displeasure on his account, yet 
 makes such piteous lament that Abraham strives 
 to silence him. 
 
 Abraham. Sone, thy wordes make me to wepe full sore, 
 Now my dere son ysaac, speke no more. 
 
 1 countenance. 
 
144 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Ysaac. A ! my owyne dere fader, were fore ? 
 
 We schall speke to-gedyr her but a wylle 
 And sythyn that I must nedysse be ded, 
 
 zyt my dere fader, to you I prey, 
 Smythe but feve strokes at my hed, 
 And make an end as sone as ye may, 
 And tery not too longe. 
 
 Yet the father's heart fails him at every effort, 
 and the bright sword, the sight of which so terri- 
 fies the boy, swerves again and again from the 
 fall. Even after the angel has intervened, Isaac, 
 dazed with fright, can with difficulty be brought 
 to comprehend his deliverance, and through the 
 rest of the play he continues fearful and uncer- 
 tain. With joy he brings a ram, which he has 
 caught by the horn, to his father as the new 
 victim. 
 
 " A scheppe, scheppe ! blyssyd mot thou be, 
 That ever thou were sent down heder, 
 Thou schall thys day dey for me, 
 In the worchup of the holy Tyynyte, 
 Now cum fast and goo we togeder 
 To my fader of hevyn, 
 Thow thou be never so jentyll and good, 
 zyt had I lever thou schedyst thi blood, 
 
 I-wysse, scheppe, than I. 
 Loo ! fader, I have browt here full smerte, 
 Thys jentyll scheppe, 
 And hym to you I zyffe. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 145 
 
 But lord god, I thanke the with all my hart, 
 
 For I am glad that I schall leve, 
 And kys onys my dere moder." 
 
 But as the boy stoops to blow the fire for the 
 sacrifice, he glances up at his father distrustfully. 
 
 Ysaac. And I wyll fast begynne to blowe, 
 
 Thys fyere schall brene a full good spyd ; 
 But, fader, wyll I stowppe downe lowe, 
 Ye wyll not kyll me with yowre sword, I trowe ? 
 Abraham. Noo, harly, 1 swet son have no dred, 
 My mornyng is past. 
 Ysaac. A ! but I woold that sword wer in a glad, 2 
 
 For i-wys, fader, yt make me full yll a gast. 
 
 Isaac is greatly relieved when the offering is 
 over and they can leave the hill-top, which Abraham 
 regards with a certain complacency. 
 
 Abraham. Loo ysaac, my son, how thynke ye 
 
 Be thys warke that we have wroght, 
 Full glad and blythe we may be 
 
 Ayens the wyll of god that we grucched nott, 
 Upon thys fayer hetth. 
 Ysaac. A ! fader, I thanke owr lord every dell, 
 That my wyt servyd me so wyll, 
 
 For to drede god more than my detth. 
 Abraham. Why dere-worthy son, wer thow a-dred? 
 Hardely, dry Id, tell me thy lore. 
 Ysaac. Ya, be my feyth, fader, now hath I red, 
 I wos never soo afrayd before, 
 
 1 heartily. 2 gleed = fire. 
 
146 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 As I have byn at thyn hyll. 
 But be my feyth, fader, I swere 
 I wyll never more cume there, 
 But yt be ayens my wyll. 
 Abraham. Ya, cum with me, my owyn swet sonn, 
 And homward fast now let us goon. 
 Ysaac. Be my feyth, fader, thereto I grant, 
 
 I had never so good wyll to gon hom, 
 And to speke with my dere moder. 
 
 It is possible that we have another Norfolk play. 
 There is a Croxton play extant, but the county is 
 not designated, and there are towns by the name 
 of Croxton in at least five other English counties. 
 This drama is entitled The Play of the Sacrament, 
 and is not, strictly speaking, a Mystery at all. Nor 
 is it a Morality. It is believed to be the earliest 
 English drama extant, which has neither allegorical 
 characters, nor a plot founded on Biblical narrative, 
 or on the life of a saint. Yet it is essentially a 
 church play, dealing with the same general subject 
 that is blazoned upon the beautiful glass of the 
 Chapel of the Sacrament, in Brussels cathedral, — 
 the story of outrages offered by Jews to the sacred 
 Host, wherein our Lord was held to suffer a renewal 
 of His Passion. 
 
 It may possibly have been the case, but was far 
 more probably a matter of Christian slander, that 
 at various times during the thirteenth and four- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 147 
 
 teenth centuries continental Jews obtained and 
 transfixed in their synagogues consecrated wafers, 
 whereupon it was devoutly maintained by the faith- 
 ful, the Real Presence, thus crucified, was attested 
 by miracle. In the continental accounts the offend- 
 ing Jews are invariably burned alive. Our English 
 dramatist is more merciful. He is, in point of 
 technique, rather a clever versifier, with a quick 
 ear for alliteration, and his humour, though coarse, 
 is abundant. 
 
 After a summary of the action delivered in alter- 
 nating speeches by two vexillaries, who inform us, 
 amongst other matter, that the scene is laid in 
 Aragon, a Christian merchant, " Syr Arystory," 
 takes the stage, boasting exultantly of his far-famed 
 wealth. The Presbyter gives him a kindly reminder 
 to thank for this great prosperity his God that died 
 on rood. The merchant hurriedly assents, but is 
 evidently too much preoccupied with worldly affairs 
 to be deeply impressed by religious considerations. 
 "Syr Arystory" withdrawing, the wily Jew Jonathas, 
 attended by four other sons of Israel, Jason and 
 Jasdon, Malcus and Masphat, succeeds him as 
 speaker, apparently mounting a second scaffold, 
 and proceeds in turn to make a dazzling report of 
 his own treasures, needing no prompter to in- 
 duce him to render praise therefor to "Almighty 
 Machomet." 
 
148 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 But amidst all his wealth of gems and fruits, the 
 Jew has a trouble. 
 
 " ye beleve of thes crysten men ys false as I wene 
 for ye beleve on a cake me thy 11k yt ys onkynd. 
 And alle they seye how ye prest dothe yt bynd 
 And be ye myght of hys word make yt flessh & blode 
 And thus be a conceyte ye wolde make vs blynd 
 And how yt shuld be he yt deyed upon ye rode." 
 
 His companions agree with him that this must 
 be an idle tale, and propose that they put it to the 
 proof, plotting to bribe " Syr Arystory " to steal the 
 wafer from the altar for them. It is worthy of note 
 that the motive assigned for this sacrilege is not 
 one springing from hatred of Christ, but rather 
 one born of honest perplexity and a desire to attain 
 truth. The scene is shifted to the other platform. 
 The Presbyter proposes to go to church to "say 
 his evensong," and " Syr Arystory" promises him 
 a good supper on his return. Meanwhile Peter 
 Powle, "Syr Arystory's " clerk, presents the Jewish 
 merchants to his master. Jonathas at once enters 
 upon his business and makes a liberal offer, "clothe 
 of gold, precyous stones & spyce plente," with 
 twenty "pownd" thrown in, if the Christian will 
 procure for him his " God in a cake." " Sir Ary- 
 story " is horrified at the impious suggestion, but 
 when the bribe reaches a hundred pounds, thinks 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 149 
 
 better of it. At supper he plies the Presbyter 
 with wine, — 
 
 " ther ys no precyouser fer nor nere 
 
 for alle wykkyd metys yt wylle dejest," — 
 
 and when the holy man has fallen into the pro- 
 found slumber consequent upon such deep potations, 
 " Syr Arystory " takes the church-keys, invades the 
 sacred choir, and delivers up the Host to Jonathas. 
 The Jew bears away his prize to the house where 
 the other Israelites await him, and here, after in- 
 creduously repeating one to another the Christian 
 history, they fall upon the wafer with their daggers, 
 pricking the five wounds in it, nailing it to a pillar, 
 and plucking it down again with pincers. It bleeds, 
 and the sight dismays and maddens them. Jonathas 
 attempts to throw the cake into a chaldron of boil- 
 ing oil, but it clings to his hand, and he runs up 
 and down like one in a frenzy. In the attempts 
 to detach the wafer, the hand of Jonathas is torn 
 off, and a quack doctor, who, with his boy Colle, 
 furnishes the comedy of the play, — and very low 
 comedy it is, — appears upon the scene. Mean- 
 while the wafer, hand and all, has been thrown into 
 the seething chaldron. The oil forthwith waxes 
 red as blood and overflows the vessel. In haste 
 Jason takes the pincers, plucks out the wafer, and 
 casts it into a red-hot oven. The oven bursts 
 
150 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 asunder, the bleeding Image of Christ comes forth 
 and pleads with His tormentors, who are heart- 
 smitten, implore and receive pardon, even that 
 blasphemous right hand of Jonathas being restored 
 to him, make public confession and restitution, and 
 undertake a penitential pilgrimage. 
 
 " The Story of the Creacon of Eve, with the Ex- 
 pylling of Adam and Eve out of Paradyce," a grocers' 
 pageant, was apparently one of a Norwich cycle of 
 twelve Whitsun plays. This Mystery savours of Mo- 
 rality, numbering among its characters Dolor and Mys- 
 erye. It pays much heed, likewise, to musical effect. 
 The opening scene exhibits the creation of Eve, a 
 "Rybbe coloured Redde," which is counted among the 
 stage properties of the guild, being taken by " Pater " 
 out of " manys syde " in the presence of the audience, 
 and then and there transformed into a woman. 
 
 " a ribbe out of manys syde I do here take, 
 bothe flesche & bone I do thys creatur blysse, 
 And a woman I fourme, to be his make, 
 Semblable to man : beholde here she ys." 
 
 Adam expresses his thanks in English garnished with 
 Latin, and is set by his Maker to keep the " Garden 
 of Pleasure." On God's departure, Adam at once 
 excuses himself to Eve. 
 
 " O lovely spowse of God's creacon, 
 I leve the here alone, I shall not tary longe, 
 for I wylle walke a whyle, for my recreacon." 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 151 
 
 The Serpent, handsomely attired in a "cote with 
 hosen, a tayle stayned," and a crown and wig, comes 
 promptly upon the scene and induces Eve to taste 
 the apple, claiming that he is sent by God to give 
 her that command. Adam returns and partakes of 
 the forbidden fruit. The voice of God is heard call- 
 ing through the garden. Here occurs a hiatus in the 
 manuscript, and the rest of the play, resuming with 
 the driving of the guilty pair out of Paradise, is 
 written in a more modern style. A second version of 
 the story, as late as 1565, is added. Here, after the 
 exile, Dolor and Myserye lay hold of Adam by both 
 arms, and the Holy Ghost enters to comfort him with 
 Gospel speech. 
 
 The subjects of the four plays which Mr. Furnivall 
 has set the example of classing together as the 
 Digby Mysteries, although only the first three are 
 found in what is known as the Digby manuscript, are 
 the " Killing of the Children or the Slaughter of the 
 Innocents " (also entitled " Candlemas Day," or " Par- 
 fre's Candlemas Day," John Parfre being the name 
 of the transcriber), the " Conversion of Saint Paul," 
 " Mary Magdalene," and the " Burial and Resurrection 
 of Christ," — this last sometimes regarded as two 
 plays instead of one. These Digby Mysteries, later 
 than the York, the Towneley, the Coventry, the 
 Chester, are by that so much the poorer, belonging 
 to the decay of the old religious stage and pointing, 
 
152 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 by their very restlessness and caprice, to the coming 
 change and the birth of the secular drama. 
 
 Candlemas Day apparently belonged to a New 
 Testament cycle of pageants, of which only one was 
 played each year. In the prologue we read : — 
 
 " The last year we shewid you in this place 
 how the shepherdes of Cristes birthe made letificacion, 1 
 And thre kynges that come fro ther Cuntrees be grace 
 To worshipe Jesu, with enteer devocion." 
 
 And in the epilogue : — 
 
 " Now of this pore processe we make an ende, 
 thankyng you all of your good attendaunce ; 
 and the next yeer, as we be purposid in our mynde, 
 The disputacion of the doctours to shew in your presens." 
 
 The play runs in the main on the old lines. There 
 is the usual ranting Herod, by whose messenger, 
 Watkyn, the comic element is supplied. Watkyn is 
 a Braggadocio, — a crude, dramatic anticipation of 
 Parolles and Bobadill. Eager to be knighted, he 
 burns to distinguish himself in the Bethlehem affray, 
 but, as he involuntarily confesses, is grievously afraid 
 of the women. 
 
 " I shall go shew your knyghtes how ye have seid, 
 And arme my-self manly, and go forth on the flokke ; 
 And if I fynde a yong child I shall choppe it on a blokke ; 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 153 
 
 though the moder be angry, the child shalbe slayn, 
 
 but yitt I drede no thyng more than a woman with a Rokke, 1 
 
 ffor if I se ony suche, be my feith I come a-geyn." 
 
 he row d. 
 
 what, shall a woman with a Rokke drive the a- way? 
 
 ffye on the traitour ! now I tremble for tene. 
 
 I have trosted the long and many a day ; 
 
 A bold man and an hardy I went thu haddist ben. 
 
 Watkyn, Messanger. 
 
 So am I, my lord, and that shalbe seen 
 
 that I am a bold man and best dare a-byde ; 
 
 And ther come an hundred women I wole not ffleen, 
 
 but fro morowe tyll nyght with them I dare chide ; 
 
 And therfor my lord ye may trust unto me, 
 
 for all the children of Israeli your knyghtes and I shall kylle, 
 
 I wyll not spare on, but dede thei shalbe, 
 
 If the ffader and moder will lete me have my wille. 
 
 Herowd. 
 
 Thu hirdeyn, take hed what I sey the tyll, 
 
 And high the to my knyghtes as fast as thu can ; 
 
 say, I warne them in ony wyse ] er blood pat thei spille 
 
 A-bought in every Cuntre, and lette for no man. 
 
 Watkyn. 
 
 Nay, nay, my lord, we wyll let for no man, 
 though ther come a Thousand on a rought ; 2 
 for your knyghtes and I will kyll them all if we can, 
 but for the wyves, that is all my dought. 
 
 1 distaff. 2 rout. 
 
154 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 And if I se ony walkyng a- bought, 
 
 I will take good hede till she be goon ; 
 
 And assone as I aspye that she is oute, 
 
 by my feith into the lions I will go Anon. 
 
 And thus I promyse you, that I shall never slepe, 
 
 but evermore wayte to fynde the children alone, 
 
 And if the moder come In under the benche I will crepe 
 
 And lye stille ther tyll she be goon ; 
 
 than manly I shall come out and hir children sloon, 
 
 And whan I have don, I shall renne fast a-way. 
 
 if she founde hir child dede, and toke me ther alone, 
 
 be my feith I am sure we shuld make a fray. 
 
 herowd. 
 
 Nay, harlott, a-byde stylle with my knyghtes, I warne the, 
 tyll the children be slayn all the hooll rought ; 
 and whan thu comyst home a-geyn I shall avaunce the 
 If thu quyte the like a man, whill thu art ought ; 
 And if thu pley the coward, I put the owt of dought, 
 of me thu shalt neyther have ffee nor advauntage ; 
 therfor I charge you the contre be well sought, 
 And whan thu comyst home, shalt have thi wage. 
 
 watkyn. 
 
 Yis, sire, be my trouthe ye shall wele knowe 
 
 whill I am oute how I shall aquyte me, 
 
 for I purpos to spare neither high nor lowe, 
 
 If ther be no man wole smyte me. 
 
 the most I fere the wyves will bete me ; 
 
 yitt shall I take good hert to me and loke wele a-bought, 
 
 And loke that your knyghtes be not ferre fro me, 
 
 For if I be alone I may sone gete a Clought. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 155 
 
 The mothers are as good as his fears. They 
 make a desperate resistance, and finally, when the 
 children have been torn from their arms and butch- 
 ered before their eyes, set upon Watkyn, and, with 
 taunts of dubbing him knight with their distaffs, 
 beat him until the bolder murderers are forced to 
 come to his rescue. 
 
 This pageant has music and dancing after both 
 prologue and epilogue. The second Digby Mystery, 
 too, the Conversion of Saint Paul, was enlivened 
 by dancing after the prologue and after the acts, 
 for this play is remarkable as having been per- 
 formed at three stations. In the first act, the fun 
 is furnished by a scene of coarse comedy between 
 the servant of Saul, the future apostle appearing 
 as a knight-errant, and the ostler, who is inclined 
 to put on airs. But the second act, which is 
 taken up by Paul's conversion, and the third, which 
 deals with his escape, through angelic agency, from 
 the toils of Annas and Caiaphas, introducing, to 
 boot, a sermon preached by him on the favourite 
 text of the Seven Deadly Sins, were evidently con- 
 sidered dull, for a later hand has ingeniously in- 
 serted at the beginning of the third act, before 
 the sermon, a carnival of consternation over the 
 loss of Saul, among the devils in hell. If the stage 
 directions were faithfully carried out, this episode 
 doubtless redeemed the play from popular disfavour, 
 
156 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 for these directions promise flame and uproar in 
 plenty. For instance, — " Here shall enter another 
 devyll, callyd Mercurye, with a fyerying, comying 
 in hast, cryeing and rorying." And ultimately 
 the demons "vanyse away, with a fyre flame and a 
 tempest." 
 
 Mary Magdalene is a play greatly confused in 
 structure and of extraordinary length. It is divided 
 by Dr. Furnivall into two parts, of which the first 
 embraces twenty scenes and the second thirty-one. 
 It required probably no less than four scaffolds 
 for presentation, the Emperor Tiberius, Herod, 
 Pilate, and the Devil each having his own platform. 
 A ship was part of the stage furniture, and a castle, 
 — the castle of Mary Magdalene besieged by the 
 Devil and the Seven Deadly Sins. The three 
 kings of the world, the flesh and the devil are in 
 the cast, but their Majesties are quite overshadowed 
 by the King of Marseilles, who performs the role 
 of chief braggart. The plot is of the loosest. Tibe- 
 rius, " of heven and hell chyff rewler," opens the 
 play with brag and bluster and with threats against 
 the Christians. Then is displayed the castle, whose 
 lord, Cyrus, describes his three children, and makes 
 in their presence his last will and testament. 
 
 " Now Lazarus, my sonne, whech art per brothyr, 
 The lordshep of Jerusalem I gyff pe after my dysses, 
 and mary, thys castell, a-lonly, an non othyr ; 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 157 
 
 & martha xall have beteny, I sey exprese : 
 thes gyftes I graunt you withowtyn les, 
 whyll ]<at I am in good mynd." 
 
 In the third scene Tiberius sends orders to Herod 
 to search out all rebels and heretics. In the fourth, 
 Herod, ranting in his accustomed fashion, learns 
 from his philosophers of the Messianic prophecies 
 and decides, his decision being sharpened by the 
 receipt of the Emperor's message, to seek for Christ 
 and put Him to death. Pilate then appears and 
 expresses himself to the same purport. The action 
 returns to the castle, where Cyrus, stricken with 
 mortal pains, blesses his children, dies, and leaves 
 them sorrowing. The seventh scene opens with 
 the ominous direction : " Her xal entyr pe kyng of 
 pe world, pen pe kyng of ]>e flesch, and pen pe dylfe, 
 with ]>e seven dedly synnes, a bad angyll an a good 
 angyl." The odds are evidently sorely against the 
 good angel. The king of the world expresses him- 
 self as the first of potentates, next to the King 
 of Heaven, telling how he guides the wheel of 
 fortune, and how in him rests the order of the 
 seven metals, knit each to a star, as gold to the 
 sun, silver to the moon, iron to Mars, quicksilver 
 to Mercury, red copper to Venus, brittle tin to 
 Jupiter, heavy lead to Saturn, — treasure with which 
 the seven princes of hell are enriched. Pride and 
 Covetousness applaud this address. The king of 
 
158 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 the flesh then has his turn, declaring that he puts 
 delight in flowers and spices, and in his spouse 
 Luxuria, his knight Glutton, and his friend Sloth. 
 Satan himself takes the word at last, and calls his 
 peers and followers to hold consultation with him, 
 as to how the fair castle of Mary Magdalene may 
 be overthrown. The Seven Deadly Sins besiege 
 the walls in vain and withdraw to Jerusalem, but 
 Luxuria slips in, attended by the bad angel, flatters 
 Mary, and persuades her to relieve her grief for 
 her father's death by disporting herself abroad. 
 They accordingly walk to Jerusalem and rest in a 
 tavern, where a dandy, Curiosity, dances with Mary 
 and leads her to fall in love with him. The bad 
 angel speeds away to the devils with the news, 
 and Luxuria is commanded by Satan to remain 
 with the victim and keep her in sin. But while 
 Mary, musing happily on her "valentynes, my byrd 
 swetyngs, my lovys so dere," falls asleep in an 
 arbour, Simon the Leper is planning a grand feast 
 and wishing he could induce the new prophet, the 
 report of whose "hye nobyll-nesse " is all abroad, to 
 honour it by his presence. The good angel finds 
 Mary, who, brought to repentance, resolves to seek 
 help from Christ. 
 
 " I xal porsue ]>e prophett, wherso he be, 
 for he is ]>e welle of perfyth charyte." 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 159 
 
 Then follows the beautiful scene at the feast, the 
 seven devils, who are the Seven Deadly Sins, depart- 
 ing from Mary, as she sits forgiven at the Saviour's 
 feet, while the bad angel, according to the stage 
 direction, enters into hell, "with thondyr," and is 
 there, with the seven devils, soundly chastised for 
 his failure. Mary returns to Lazarus and Martha. 
 The brother sickens, dies, is buried, and raised again, 
 and with the joyous clamours of the multitude, 
 turned by this miracle to faith in Jesus, the first 
 part of the drama ends. Part II. is opened by the 
 leading bully of the cast, the King of Marseilles, 
 vaunting himself as the Head of Heathendom, and 
 heaping praises on his queen, whom he styles the 
 Beryl of Beauty. Then a devil, yelling frightfully, 
 bursts in to tell how Christ has harried hell. 
 
 " ower barres of Iron ar all to-brost ! stronge gates of 
 
 brasse ! 
 the king of Joy enteryd In per-at, as bryth as fyr'ys 
 
 blase ! 
 for fray of his ferfull baner, ower felashep fled 
 
 asondyr ; 
 whan he towcheyd it, with his toukkyng \ey brast 
 
 as ony glase." 
 
 The three Marys next appear, lamenting the death 
 of their Lord, but are comforted by the angels of 
 the sepulchre. Mary Magdalene communes of these 
 matters with Peter and John, and there follows the 
 
160 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 dawn-scene in the garden. Christ afterwards appears 
 to His mother and His disciples. The action is then 
 transferred to the palace of the King of Marseilles, 
 who is preparing a great sacrifice to Mahound. A 
 ribald dialogue ensues between the fat priest and 
 his profane boy. This hopeful acolyte mocks the 
 priest's ministrations at the altar by gabbling after 
 him a nonsensical jargon, ending with a fervent wish 
 that the worshippers may all die on the gallows. 
 Next in order, Pilate sends word to Herod and 
 Tiberius that Jesus' disciples have robbed the sepul- 
 chre. Christ appears in the heavens to Mary Mag- 
 dalene, bidding her go to Marseilles and convert the 
 land. " Here," says the stage direction, "xal entyre 
 a shyp with a mery song." This is the barque that, 
 the shipman and his boy furnishing new buffoonery, 
 conveys Mary to Marseilles, where she receives but 
 an ill welcome from the king, until his idols quake 
 before her and his temple bursts into flame. Then 
 he appears inclined to compromise, but breaks off 
 abruptly and goes to bed. Angels bring Mary food, 
 and, walking before her in white mantles, bearing 
 tapers, lead her to the royal chamber. The king 
 and queen, naturally impressed by the intrusion of 
 this procession, are converted, and give their goods 
 to feed the poor. This done, in the same vessel that 
 brought Mary to Marseilles, the royal pair embark 
 on a voyage to the Holy Land, but on shipboard 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 161 
 
 the queen dies in childbirth. The dead mother and 
 living infant are laid on a rock in the sea, and the 
 king placidly continues his voyage. Having been 
 baptised by Peter in Jerusalem, he returns in the 
 same ship, and, chancing to pass the rock, is over- 
 joyed to discover his baby plump and rosy, and — 
 such was the grace of Mary Magdalene — the mother 
 alive and well. The reunited family return to Mar- 
 seilles, where they are greeted by Mary, who shortly 
 after withdraws into the wilderness. Here she lives 
 for thirty years as an anchorite, being thrice a day 
 lifted up into the clouds and fed with manna. Save 
 for one priest, she holds converse with none but 
 angels. This priest administers to her the last 
 sacrament and the heavens open to receive her, her 
 celestial visitants welcoming their sister with "a 
 mery song." 
 
 This long, illogical drama, in part Scriptural, in 
 part legendary, and in part allegorical, is of interest 
 as embracing the elements alike of Mystery, Saint 
 Play, and Morality, but on literary grounds, at least, 
 is certainly not without need of the apology which 
 constitutes the epilogue: — 
 
 " yff Ony thyng Amysse be, 
 blame connyng, and nat me : 
 I desyr \>e redars to be my frynd, 
 yff per be ony amysse, pat to amend." 
 
1 62 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 The use of the word "redars" here would seem 
 to indicate that the Miracle Plays were beginning to 
 gain a library footing. 
 
 The last Mystery of this group, the Burial of 
 Christ and the Resurrection, in reality one play in 
 two parts, has no touch of comedy. Diffuse and 
 monotonous though the continual lamentations are, 
 the drama is guiltless of offence against religious 
 feeling. Some of the sequences of the Easter Mass 
 were sung as part of the performance, which may 
 well have taken place in the church, the first part 
 on Good Friday and the second on Easter. The 
 play is devoid of poetic merit, almost of dramatic 
 character, and a few lines, for style and tone and 
 tenor, may serve to sample the whole, as these from 
 Joseph's lament : — 
 
 " O calvery mount, on lengthe and brede ! 
 O calvery ! thy greyn colore is turnyd to rede 
 By a blissed lammes bloode which now is dede." 
 
 In addition to this Miracle series already noted, 
 Cornwall has a Creation of the World, which carries 
 the Biblical story on through Noah's flood, and closes 
 with an invitation to the audience to come early on 
 the morrow to see the Passion Play. This Creation 
 is of late date, though prior to 1611, and the un- 
 known author imitates and often copies outright the 
 Origo Mundi. His work, however, has certain indi- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 163 
 
 vidual features. Lucifer argues his own case warmly 
 in opposition to God and the angels, Michael and 
 Gabriel being especially hot against the rebel. Cain, 
 whose character is much elaborated, not in amiable 
 directions, flees from home, after the murder, with 
 his wife Calmana by his side and their little children 
 upon his back, God having marked him by a horn in 
 the forehead. Lamech, as in the Coventry cycle, 
 slays his grandsire Cain by misadventure. Enoch 
 is translated, and Seth writes out the record of the 
 world in two books, for whose safe-keeping he erects 
 a pillar of brass and a pillar of marble. Tubal leads 
 the ridicule against Noah as he labours at the ark, 
 and Noah's wife has to be sharply summoned by her 
 husband before she enters, although she explains the 
 delay as due to her diligence in collecting the house- 
 hold goods. 
 
 " Needful is it to save what there is. 
 I ought not to throw away. 
 
 Good it is for us to save them. 
 They cost a shower of money, 
 The same tackles that are here. 
 
 Fair Noah, thou knowest that." 
 
 Although English literature proper has, with 
 the doubtful exceptions of Mary Magdalene and 
 the Anglo-Saxon Pas si 071 of Saint George, no sur- 
 viving Saint Plays, Cornwall cherishes a Life of 
 Saint Meriasek, a play founded on three legends 
 
1 64 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 awkwardly fitted together, — the legend of Meriasek, 
 son of a Duke of Brittany, who, for love of the 
 priestly profession, refused marriage with a wealthy 
 princess and led the life of a miracle-working her- 
 mit, first in Cornwall and afterwards in his native 
 land ; the legend of Saint Sylvester, who healed 
 the Emperor Constantine of leprosy by a dip in 
 the baptismal font, and then aided him in estab- 
 lishing Christianity throughout his broad dominion ; 
 and the curious legend of a mother who, on the 
 Virgin's continued disregard of her prayer for the de- 
 liverance of a son in captivity, carried off the Christ- 
 Child from the arms of the Virgin's statue, and 
 refused to yield up the baby to the Madonna until 
 her own son was restored to her. 
 
 This, so far as I am at present aware, closes 
 our list of English Miracle Plays, although I would 
 call attention to Ten Brink's account of a Miracle 
 named by him Jacob and Esau, not to be confounded 
 with the Elizabethan Jacob and Esau printed in 
 Hazlitt's Dodsley. There are, it is true, various 
 other productions often referred to as Mysteries, but 
 not, it would seem to me, in a strict use of the term. 
 Of these the Harroiving of Hell, a dramatic poem 
 rather than a drama, has received much notice from 
 scholars because of its undoubted antiquity. The 
 Protestant Mysteries of Bishop Bale — Bilious Bale, 
 as his enemies nicknamed him — are curiosities in 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — ENUMERATION. 165 
 
 English literature. The polemical Bishop laid vio- 
 lent hold of this old-fashioned dramatic instrument, 
 forged in the mediaeval church, and attempted to 
 wield it in behalf of the Reformed Faith. He wrote 
 a series of what he was pleased to style comedies, 
 intending that these should form a continuous his- 
 tory of the life of Christ. The plays are lost, but 
 something of their character may be gathered from 
 their titles, the author's own list being extant : — 
 
 1. Of Christ, when He was twelve years old, one 
 comedy. 
 
 2-3. Of His Baptism and Temptation, two comedies. 
 
 4. Of Lazarus raised from the Dead, one comedy. 
 
 5. Of the Councills of the Bishops, one comedy. 
 
 6. Of Simon, the Leper, one comedy. 
 
 7. Of the Lord's Supper and washing the feet, one 
 
 comedy. 
 8-9. Of the Passion of Christ, two comedies. 
 10-11. Of the Sepulture and Resurrection, two comedies. 
 
 But Bale wrote other plays, both religious and 
 political. Of the latter, a blending of the historical 
 drama with the Morality, but one specimen, Kyng 
 JoJian, remains. Of Bale's distinctively religious 
 plays, four are extant. One of these, The TJiree 
 Laivs of Nature, Moses, and Christ, is still in manu- 
 script, but the others have made their way into 
 print. God's Promises is modelled after the Pro 
 cessus Prophetarum of the genuine Miracle Cycle, 
 
1 66 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 but, as Pollard says, " has a tediousness all its own." 
 The interpretation of the divine nature is, however, 
 the most offensive feature in the play. Pater 
 Ccelestis displays himself in debate harsh, blunt, and 
 acrimonious beyond all heresy. No wonder that 
 Noah says : — 
 
 " Blessed be thy name, most Mighty Merciful Maker, 
 With Thee to dispute it were inconvenient." 
 
 Or that Abraham asks : — 
 
 " Tell me, blessed Lord, where will thy great malice light? 
 My hope is, all flesh shall not perish in thy sight." 
 
 But the attitude of this bitter deity toward man is 
 best summed up in the sententious line : — 
 
 " In my syghte he is more venym than the spyder." 
 
 One is tempted to remind the Bishop that God 
 created the spider, too. John the Baptystes preach- 
 ynge in the Wyldemesse, partisan and unpoetic though 
 it is, broadens to a more genial handling of its 
 theme, and as regards the last of these controversial 
 dramas, The Temptation of Christ, it may at least 
 be said, though it is not much to say, that the 
 bearing and address of Jesus toward the tempter 
 compare favourably, for dignity, courtesy, and for- 
 bearance, with those of Milton's Christ in the Para- 
 dise Regained. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— ENUMERATION. 167 
 
 What would have been the result, one wonders, 
 if Milton had carried out his design of casting the 
 theme of Paradise Lost upon the lines of a Miracle 
 Play ? At all events, it would have been more 
 successful than Byron's Mysteries, — even than 
 Byron's Cain. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MIRACLE PLAYS DRAMATIC VALUES. 
 
 There are two ways of regarding our old Miracle 
 Plays. Many students of English literature think of 
 them confusedly, contemptuously, as the primal dra- 
 matic chaos out of which the Elizabethan stage rose, 
 not by process of evolution, but by divine fiat, — 
 " Let there be Shakespeare," and there was Shake- 
 speare. Others see in this five-centuried growth not 
 merely the dramatic elements, but those displayed on 
 a grand scale and already shapen into a huge, rough- 
 hewn, majestic Gothic drama. They see in the 
 Miracle Play not merely collision, but tremendous 
 clash of conflict ; not merely scheme, but inevitable 
 development of event from event, and these events 
 colossal ; not merely life-like characterisation, but 
 realised humanity, deviltry, and Divinity ; not merely 
 passion, but all the passion that surged through the 
 great, child-like, mediaeval heart. The upholders of 
 this second view must to a large degree ignore 
 detail, often uncouth, often unseemly, often ridicu- 
 
 168 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DRAMATIC VALUES. 169 
 
 lous, and persistently fix attention upon the mass 
 of the Miracle structure, the sweep of outline, and 
 dignity of design. They must have limitless forbear- 
 ance for the halting, tedious, undeveloped speech, — 
 that most beggarly attire with which the vast idea is 
 clothed upon. No poet ear listened for the cadences 
 that should form a fitting music for the splendid 
 spectacle. No poet brain brooded the mighty 
 thought until mighty language was born to com- 
 pass it. Feeble linguists, uncertain melodists, dull 
 versifiers, toiled over those tattered play-books, whose 
 inherent drama was no one man's invention, no one 
 nation's achievement, but the life-pulse of mediaeval 
 Christendom. 
 
 The composite authorship of the cycles is, indeed, 
 a critical problem of delightful difficulty, which has 
 already claimed much attention from scholars, Ten 
 Brink's analysis being the most thorough up to date, 
 and will undoubtedly claim more. The relation of 
 group to group, with all the concomitant study of 
 interpolations, adaptations, and possible foreign origi- 
 nals, is a subject that will not fail of patient and per- 
 severing investigation. Meanwhile it is, we trust, 
 permissible to note with the naked eye, over the 
 click of all these crowding German microscopes, the 
 general aspects of the dramatic conglomerate. 
 
 What is the stuff of these old Miracle Plays ? 
 From what quarries was their varied material taken ? 
 
I JO THE EXGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 These bright-hued pageants, where the silent story 
 of rich -stained glass and fresco came to life in 
 breathing, moving figures, have indeed been desig- 
 nated a living Biblia Paupcrum, but many of the 
 dramatis persona are unknown to Hebrew annalist 
 or evangelist. It is in the Cornwall Plays, however, 
 that we meet with the largest admixture of legend, 
 and the statement may be admitted that the Keltic 
 peoples, as a rule, gave in their Mysteries more place 
 to fable, while the Teutonic held more closely to the 
 E : blical text. Our English Miracles sprang from a 
 Saxon-Norman stock, in some cases, notably in that 
 of the Coventry Plays, under strong French influ- 
 ence, and so present a blending of record and of 
 legend, the record predominating. Without going 
 into the minutiae of the subject, the chief sources of 
 Miracle material in England may be ranked as. the 
 Vulgate, the Apocryphal Gospels, and the manners 
 of the time, especially among the poorer classes. 
 
 The handling of Old Testament subjects was, as 
 has been seen, marked by extraordinary freedom. 
 To the vision of the Creation, received as literal 
 history, was persistently added the wild, feudal le- 
 gend of the Fall of Lucifer, — a legend which twice 
 in English literature has attained epic grandeur: 
 once with the inspired dreamer, Caedmon, and once 
 with the Puritan protagonist, Milton. The story of 
 Cain and Abel was embellished by the transforma- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. \Jl 
 
 tion of Cain into a Northumbrian boor. The story 
 of the Ark was saturated with fun arising from the 
 vixenish characteristics which, in an astonishing 
 outburst of posthumous slander, the Miracle dram- 
 atists have well-nigh universally agreed in bestowing 
 upon Noah's wife. Upon the story of Abraham and 
 Isaac was lavished all the wealth of tenderness and 
 pathos and homely piety which lie deep at the roots 
 of English domestic life. These are the main 
 themes taken from the Old Testament by the 
 Miracle writers, and the additions are, on the whole, 
 less of the nature of legend than of bold and spirited 
 elaboration, — an elaboration carried out on purely 
 mediaeval and English lines, without the faintest 
 attempt at reproducing either the life of the patri- 
 archal ages or the customs of the East. 
 
 When we come to the New Testament history, 
 we recognise at once the false strands in the web, — 
 the incidents and characterisations drawn from the 
 Apocryphal Gospels. These gospels had their raison 
 d'etre in a natural curiosity to know more of the 
 personal life of Jesus Christ than is recorded in the 
 canonical books. Such fragments of tradition as 
 were abroad relating to Joseph and Mary and their 
 kindred, to the birth and childhood of the Redeemer, 
 to His trial and crucifixion, the fate of His perse- 
 cutors, the future of His friends, found their way 
 into written narrative, sometimes introductory, some- 
 
172 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 times appendical, but always supplementary to the 
 Evangelical accounts. The works of the early Chris- 
 tian Fathers, Justin, Irenaeus, Clement of Alexandria, 
 and others, contain a few passages apparently con- 
 firmatory of some of these traditions, as in the 
 query of Athanasius, occurring in his treatise on the 
 "Incarnation of the Word," — a query which would 
 demonstrate the Godhood of Christ by the method 
 of comparison : " Who, among righteous men or 
 kings, went down into Egypt and the idols of Egypt 
 fell ? " With such evidence in their favour, it is in 
 no way remarkable that the mother-church attached 
 great importance to the Apocryphal Gospels, incor- 
 porating certain stories from them into the Roman 
 breviary and service-books. That famous compila- 
 tion of mediaeval myths, the Lcgcnda Aurea, drew 
 largely from these spurious narrations. The Apoc- 
 ryphal Gospels were, indeed, extremely popular 
 throughout the Middle Ages, being read, translated, 
 paraphrased, and reproduced in many literary forms, 
 as well as in painting, and, above all, in the sculpt- 
 ure, wood-carving, and glass -staining of the ca- 
 thedrals. But, confining attention to the field of 
 literature, it is said that versions of these Apocry- 
 phal stories have been discovered not only in Britain, 
 France, Spain, Germany, Italy, but in Greece, Egypt, 
 Syria, Persia, India, and as far north as Iceland. 
 In English literature, they found expression not only 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 173 
 
 in the religious drama, but in homilies, histories, and 
 carols. 
 
 The longer one dwells on the Apocryphal Gospels, 
 the more one comes to appreciate the omissions of 
 the Mystery writers, — their comparative reticence 
 in regard to the many legends of Christ's infancy 
 and boyhood, and in regard to much else that closely 
 concerned His person. In general, the old play- 
 wrights contented themselves with borrowing from 
 the spurious accounts more or less matter relating 
 to the marriage of Joseph and Mary, and to Joseph 
 of Arimathea, the Harrowing of Hell, the fate of 
 Pilate, with his vain efforts to shelter himself within 
 the seamless vesture, the ascension and coronation 
 of the Virgin, and the legends of Veronica, who was 
 believed to have stood among the weeping women 
 by the Via Dolorosa, and have received upon her 
 handkerchief, still exhibited as a holy relic at Rome, 
 the impress of the Saviour's face, — a woman identi- 
 fied in the Apocrypha with her who had an issue of 
 blood twelve years and was healed by Jesus. The 
 Gospels of Nicodemus, which are of the nature of 
 appendices to the canonical books, are the most 
 celebrated of the New Testament Apocrypha. From 
 these Gospels of Nicodemus is taken, amongst much 
 other matter, the Harrowing of Hell, with many of 
 its familiar accessories, such as the meeting of the 
 rescued souls, on their entrance into Paradise, with 
 
174 
 
 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Enoch and Elijah, soon joined by the thief from 
 Calvary, bearing his cross upon his shoulder. 
 
 Tribute should be paid to the taste of the early 
 English dramatists in so largely ignoring another 
 class of legends besides those relating to the per- 
 sonal life of Jesus. It has been noted already that 
 the list of English religious dramas, apart from the 
 Latin compositions of Hilarius, comprises little in 
 the way of Saint Plays. Probably some .such plays 
 have been lost. Protestantism, which barely toler- 
 ated the Mysteries, would hardly have suffered any- 
 thing so unmistakably Romish as a Saint Play to 
 show itself by daylight. Yet much which was more 
 alien than these to the spirit of the Reformation 
 lived on in the dark, and if there had ever existed 
 any considerable number of Saint Plays, assuredly 
 records and allusions relating to them, if not the 
 very manuscripts, would have been preserved. When, 
 therefore, one remembers the multitude of such 
 miraculous legends afloat through the Middle Ages, 
 how they invaded almost every department of litera- 
 ture, — chronicles, homilies, even Chaucer's Canter- 
 bury Talcs, — the Mystery writers are again to be 
 commended for what they have left unsaid. 
 
 After all, in the depths of the English heart there 
 is, and ever has been, a sense of the Divine, — the 
 saving salt of any literature and of any nation. It 
 was this sense which, working obscurely and often 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUFS. 175 
 
 dubiously, guided these rude old playwrights in their 
 selection of dramatic subjects and in their handling 
 of the subjects chosen. Badly as they bungled the 
 Christian story, the person of Christ was always 
 sacred to them. With the minor characters, as 
 Joseph and the Christmas shepherds, they did not 
 hesitate to take enormous liberties ; but no touch of 
 burlesque mars the majesty of that central figure. 
 It is true that the speeches assigned to Christ are 
 sometimes stiff and dull, — at their best, a weak 
 dilution of the Gospel text ; but this was due to 
 inadequacy of literary art, not to irreverence of 
 spirit. 
 
 As sources of the Miracle Plays, it should be 
 added, the Vulgate and the New Testament Apoc- 
 rypha served as remote springs, original fountain- 
 heads, rather than the immediate feeding streams. 
 The incidents of the Apocryphal Gospels, in par- 
 ticular, were commonly taken not from the text 
 itself, but from the legends of the text as caught 
 up into current speech and art and story. 
 
 The Miracle Cycle, then, has for its fundamental 
 material the Christian faith, crudely comprehended, 
 given with startling realism personal embodiment 
 and physical environment, sprinkled over with 
 legend and anachronistic touches of rural English 
 life, yet still in essential features the Christian 
 history. 
 
176 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 There is intrinsic dramatic quality in the theme, 
 however conceived. No greater theme is possible 
 to art than this. But as conceived by the Middle 
 Ages, the Christian story is frankly and forcibly 
 dramatic. For the power of these cycles lies in 
 their mighty range. It is the complete history of 
 God's creation that they depict, — a history dra- 
 matically treated. The Mystery playwright knew 
 no philosophy of evil as the mere negation of good. 
 To his vision the earth was the arena where two 
 tremendous Spirits, the Eternal God and the Arch- 
 fiend of Rebellion, wrestled in strong contention 
 over the soul of man.^ We see these two towering 
 figures in their first encounter ; we witness Satan's 
 overthrow, followed so soon by his fateful triumph 
 in the garden ; we pursue the bitter consequences 
 of that triumph through scenes of strife and dis- 
 aster, — the murderous blow of Cain and Lamech's 
 fatal archery, God's hand appearing here and there 
 to snatch His righteous servant from the flood, or 
 His chosen people from the bondage of Egypt. 
 Then are heard the chanting voices of the proces- 
 sion of prophets, foretelling the advent of a glorious 
 champion for humanity, even the Son of God. 
 Hereat the Powers of Evil wax more furious and 
 malignant. Herod rages, the Pharisees plot, Judas 
 betrays, the soldiers seize, the disciples fall away, 
 the judges exult, the tormentors scourge and mock, 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 177 
 
 the mob denies, Pilate condemns, the cross uplifts 
 its burden, and the victory of Satan would seem 
 to be complete. But the heart of the spectator 
 is enwrapt by a strange hope and confidence. From 
 the first silver shining of the Bethlehem star upon 
 that peaceful group, the fair young mother with the 
 child clasped to her breast, shepherds kneeling 
 at her feet, and kings hastening to offer gifts, all 
 through that life of ineffable sacrifice and suffering, 
 grace and majesty, to the darkening of the heavens 
 above Mount Calvary, from whose central cross 
 gleams the motionless white figure, there has been 
 ripening in men's minds an apprehension of a new 
 force born into the world, the all-conquering force 
 of love, before which even the bolts and bars of 
 hell shall yet give way. Thus in crudely dramatic 
 fashion that wan and tortured form rises from the 
 sepulchre in kingly might, descends the black and 
 sheer approach to Satan's fortress, bursts the gates 
 of brass, is locked in terrible wrestle with the arch- 
 enemy soon overthrown, and leads out of those 
 deep dungeons up to the light of Paradise the vic- 
 tims of the gay deceiver's craft. Then are beheld 
 the ascension of Christ the Son and Mary Mother, 
 the gratulation of the angel hosts, a last struggle 
 of Satan in the shape of Antichrist, renewed vic- 
 tory of the Son of Man, and the final awful spec- 
 tacle of Doom, with the bliss of Paradise on 
 
178 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Christ's right hand and the torments of Purgatory 
 on his left. - *- 
 
 So for a long summer's day, or for three days, or 
 for nine, scene after scene the great tragedy flashed 
 by, and the eyes of the attendant multitude read 
 it literally as the creed of their own belief, the 
 book of their own life, and their hearts swelled 
 or fainted, melted or were enraptured within them. 
 
 It was all so very real in those centuries of faith 
 and art and passion. The French Miracle scaffold, 
 with the heaven -stage above and the hell -stage 
 below, both intent on the earth-stage between, 
 graphically confesses the mediaeval conception of the 
 universe. No Copernicus had yet arisen to daunt 
 men's minds by the disclosure that this marvel- 
 lous world of theirs was but one of an innumerable 
 host of stars, weaving " the web of the mystic 
 measure " through the wilderness of space. The 
 personal being and eventful history of Lucifer were 
 not in question. 'That smoke-blackened monster, 
 with crooked horns and snout, peering with men- 
 acing aspect out of hellmouth, wore the veritable 
 likeness of the fallen archangel, ever on the scent 
 for prey. There was no old school and no new 
 school of Old Testament criticism, with wordy debate 
 of myth and scribe and epoch. Noah's Ark was 
 as genuine a craft to the fourteenth century as 
 the Pinta is to us, and Eve's apple far more certain 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 179 
 
 than Wilhelm Tell's. Most significant of all, no 
 Strauss, no Renan, even no Channing, had troubled 
 the ear of those primitive play-goers. It was the 
 semblance of their very God they saw in the child 
 clinging to Mary's neck, in the boy questioning the 
 white-bearded Rabbis, in the youth baptised by 
 John in Jordan, in the patient sufferer wounded 
 for their transgressions and bruised for their in- 
 iquities. With what white lips the men looked 
 upon, how the women turned their faces from the 
 crucifixion ! It was no mere spectacle. It was no 
 mere historic execution. It was truth itself, — the 
 truth by which they lived, t And Doomsday ! In 
 the other pageants it was the past revived in change- 
 ful picture, but this is future for each appalled be- 
 holder. Have not the clergy taught how the mighty 
 contest between God and Satan is waged not only 
 for humanity in mass, but for every human soul ? 
 The Devil has lost the larger stake. Hell has been 
 emptied once, but there is Purgatory still, and there 
 is the consciousness of unshriven sin and the dread 
 of the demons' grip. 
 
 Allowing for all crudities of comprehension, still 
 the conception is colossal. So long as light strives 
 against darkness and good against evil, so long will 
 the theme retain its power. And not only this, but 
 so long as spirit is housed in flesh and fact made 
 manifest through form, the theme will lend itself to 
 
180 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 art and compel that art either to some vague cor- 
 respondence, as in Cimabue's Virgin, 
 
 " planned 
 Sublimely in the thought's simplicity," 
 
 or to clear correspondence, as in the masterpieces 
 of Raphael, with its own magnitude. The soulless 
 must make men and women soulless, the abstract 
 must make men and women abstract, before these 
 can eradicate from humanity the spiritual craving 
 for spiritual life, or the concrete need of concrete 
 revelation of that life. 
 
 " For Wisdom dealt with mortal powers, 
 Where truth in closest words shall fail, 
 When truth embodied in a tale 
 Shall enter in at lowly doors." 
 
 What license of poetic imagery we allow to Milton, 
 we may better allow to the Miracle playwrights. 
 For Milton is hardly sincere with his Ptolemaic 
 universe, his crystal "orbs involving and involved," 
 his classic hell, circumscribed by the river of obliv- 
 ion, his seraphic gunners waving their fire-tipt reeds 
 above the triple row of cannon. But our mediaeval 
 dramatists are supremely sincere. If they used 
 imagery, they did not know it. If they personified, 
 they did not mean it. If the truth was not the 
 symbol, and the symbol not the truth, they did not 
 distinguish. Nevertheless, they had the theme, and 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 181 
 
 the theme shaped their dramatic art, as it shaped 
 their plastic art, rudely indeed, but greatly. That 
 most appreciative of the Miracle critics, the late 
 Mr. Symonds, has recognised this power in several 
 of the sub-themes handled in the cycles : — 
 
 " Language in the Miracles barely clothes the ideas which 
 were meant to be conveyed by figured forms ; meagrely 
 supplies the motives necessary for the proper presentation 
 of an action. Clumsy phrases, quaint literalism, tedious 
 homilies clog the dramatic evolution. As in the case of 
 mediaeval sculpture, so here the most spontaneous and 
 natural effects are grotesque. In the treatment of sublime 
 and solemn themes we may also trace a certain ponderous 
 force, a dignity analogous to that of fresco and mosaic. 
 Subjects which in themselves are vast, imaginative, and capa- 
 ble of only a suggestive handling, such as the Parliaments 
 of Heaven and Hell, Creation, Judgment, and the Resur- 
 rection from the dead, when conceived with positive belief 
 and represented with the crudest realism, acquire a simple 
 grandeur." 
 
 It is that very effect of " simple grandeur" which 
 I would claim for the Miracle Cycles as a whole, 
 viewed from a sufficient distance, where details are 
 lost in the general outline and relief. The cycle is 
 the drama, of which the pageants are but shifting- 
 scenes. A grand dramatic framework is discernible 
 through the awkward language and the naive ideas. 
 ,In all the groups, York, Towneley, Chester, Coven- 
 try, the cyclic features are the same. Lucifer puts 
 
1 82 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 himself in defiant antagonism to God, Who smites 
 him and his adherents down to hell, creating Adam 
 and Eve that they and their descendants may fill the 
 vacant seats of heaven. The motives for the fierce 
 Satanic warfare against God and man are thus made 
 plain, — revenge and jealousy. Strife is henceforth 
 an assured element. We have the dramatic opposi- 
 tion and the dramatic anticipation of a clash. Al- 
 though the Titan combatants do not meet face to 
 face, we see evil warring against good in the Cain 
 pageant, the Pharaoh pageant, the Balaam pageant, 
 while the chorus of the prophets leads expectation 
 forward to the second act. Here God, in the person 
 of Christ, openly takes the field against Satan, but 
 in the Coventry cycle alone is the Devil brought 
 much upon the stage to oppose Him. The tempta- 
 tion in the wilderness, which Milton sets, as crucial 
 point, against the fall of man, the old dramatists 
 pass hastily over, reserving their climax for the Har- 
 rowing of Hell. They like to represent the wily 
 adversary as prescient of this storming of his feudal 
 hold and as striving by the instrumentality of Pilate's 
 wife to avert the crucifixion. None .the less is Cal- 
 vary the apparent wictory of Satan. The two great 
 battle-chiefs have closed at last, and God is over- 
 thrown. But there is a third act to come, the tri- 
 umph-act of Christ, opening with the Harrowing of 
 Hell and closing with the Judgment. 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 183 
 
 Even such, in outline, is the structure of that 
 Elizabethan drama which the ruder Miracle drama 
 fathered. Still the theme is rebellion against the 
 divine law, as Macbeth rebelled, as Antony rebelled, 
 as Faustus rebelled, each to be dashed to death 
 against the right he had defied. Still, although tech- 
 nically the first and last acts are each sub-divided 
 into two, the action progresses through three main 
 movements, from cause to climax, from climax to 
 consequence. Still there is the subtle effect of gain 
 through loss, fainter lights cast from Calvary being 
 shed on such sights as "the tragic loading" of 
 that couch where the Desdemona-heart of love, the 
 Othello-heart of faith have triumphed even in defeat 
 over the Iago-heart of malice. Still there is the 
 mighty range of the old drama, "rough, unswayable, 
 and free." Elizabethan tragedy, with the careless 
 strength of a young giant, shook off the trouble- 
 some conventions of the stage, unity of time, unity 
 of place. Was not England reared upon dramas 
 that embraced heaven, earth, and hell within their 
 limits, that encompassed all of time that had been 
 and yet should be? What did it matter, after that, 
 if Perdita and Marina grew from babyhood to 
 womanhood in a single afternoon, or the scene in 
 the Globe playhouse was shifted back and forth 
 between pre-Christian Britain and Renascence Italy? 
 May not Shakespeare be forgiven even for providing 
 
1 84 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Bohemia with that unhappy sea-coast and letting 
 Julio Romano be contemporary with the Delphic 
 oracle, when we remember how his antecedent play- 
 wrights made Noah swear by St. John, and Pharaoh 
 by Mahound, the shepherds of Bethlehem drink Ely 
 ale, and Joseph and Mary be arraigned before the 
 Bishop and his ecclesiastical court ? Shall heed- 
 lessness of detail call out a sharper criticism than 
 falseness or feebleness of conception ? The Gothic 
 drama abounded in robust vitality. Its nerves were 
 not worn by overmuch civilisation. It was not 
 easily shocked. A strain of heathen ferocity showed 
 in it even to the end, — to Hamlet, to the Duchess 
 of Malfi. Greek authority might enjoin the relation, 
 rather than the portrayal, of deeds of bloodshed, 
 violence, and horror, but Kyd and Webster were 
 scions of a race that had looked for generations 
 upon the Bethlehem massacre, the Harrowing of 
 Hell, Calvary, and Doomsday. 
 
 But if the Miracle Cycle is to be held responsible 
 for the Elizabethan disregard of the more artificial 
 dramatic canons, the Elizabethan carelessness in 
 minutiae, and even the lingering brutalities of the 
 Elizabethan stage, it must not be forgotten that 
 these same rude Mysteries set examples not only 
 of sweeping scope and massive structure, but of 
 truth to human life. Unity of action is as binding 
 on the old York playwright as on Shakespeare him- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 185 
 
 self. But this sovereign law of the drama was 
 observed by the mediaeval playwrights, as by the 
 Elizabethan, less because they consciously proposed 
 to observe it than because it was inherent in the 
 material they had chosen. Their plots were woven 
 not in fallible human brains, but in the loom of 
 Life, unerring artist. Here and there an Eliza- 
 bethan strove to be original. Tourneur spun his 
 own plots and spoiled his tragedies. But Shake- 
 speare was content to take a tragedy that had been 
 lived and make it live again. These stories on 
 which he flashed the prismatic light of his genius 
 had their strands already deep dyed with actual 
 blood and tears. He could not greatly offend 
 against the prime dramatic law, while he walked 
 with Plutarch and with Holinshed, who had walked 
 with men. In like manner the Miracle playwrights 
 have the Biblical record chiefly to thank for the 
 unity of action that marks the Miracle Cycle. 
 
 Yet granting this, the selective quality, which is 
 the dramatist's distinctive gift, has an indispensable 
 part to play. Any student of Shakespeare who 
 has compared Lear, King John, Henry the Fifth, 
 with the so-called " old plays," though but a few 
 years earlier, on the same themes, needs no more 
 impressive revelation of the function of the artist. 
 As the architect compels the weight of stone and 
 marble to the soaring arch and airy tower that in 
 
1 86 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 perfected beauty haunt his vision, so the dramatist 
 selects and disposes his no less stubborn material 
 in strict conformity with that one controlling action, 
 that one organic human deed, — seed and flower and 
 fruit, — which he recognises and reveals by pre- 
 rogative of genius. 
 
 The Mystery playwrights possessed in rudimen- 
 tary form this dramatic sense. The Miracle Cycle 
 had grown up about the three liturgical dramas 
 of Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter, and to these 
 it shaped itself throughout, concentrating attention 
 on Christ the champion, and keeping steadily in 
 view the great collision toward which the forces 
 of good and evil were converging. Guided by this 
 principle of unity, the early dramatists resolutely 
 denied themselves many an effective pageant from 
 the Old Testament. The story of Abraham and 
 Isaac, it is true, appealed to their sense of pathos 
 too strongly to be excluded, but even Balaam and 
 Pharaoh, pageants not altogether out of connection 
 with the trend of the divine event, were individual 
 experiments that did not win the general consent of 
 the cyclists. The Cornwall dramatist, freer of fancy 
 than his Saxon neighbours, ventured on the story 
 of David, but found himself forced to bind it to the 
 rest by the legend of the three miraculous rods. 
 Likewise in dealing with the Gospel narrative, there 
 is a tendency to subordinate not only the temptation 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 187 
 
 scene, which might anticipate the triumph of Christ 
 over Satan, reserved for the Harrowing of Hell, but 
 also the Lazarus scene, lest this should forestall the 
 continued victory of Christ in His breaking the bonds 
 of death, reserved for the Resurrection pageant. 
 
 In addition to the sense of dramatic unity, these 
 simple playwrights clearly had the sense of dramatic 
 situation. This we continually encounter from the 
 initial Gratio, where Satan, usurping his Maker's 
 throne and receiving the homage of one-tenth the 
 host of heaven, is cut short in his blasphemous 
 boasts by the approach of God, and by the mere 
 aspect of that dread figure is smitten down to hell, 
 to the final Damnatio, where each song of thanks- 
 giving from the throng of the saved is answered by 
 a wail of agony from the throng of the lost, the 
 white Christ standing calm above the tumult, with 
 blessing in His outstretched right hand and cursing 
 in His left. 
 
 One important feature of the Miracle Cycle, a 
 feature which the Elizabethan drama duly inherited 
 and fearlessly appropriated, remains to be noted, — 
 the blending of comedy with tragedy. It can easily 
 be conceived that to the devout spectator the heart- 
 strain of the Passion pageants was almost intolerable. 
 Very clear, it is true, was the shining background 
 of divine love, with its promise of divine victory. 
 As any master tragedy, from ^Eschylus to Browning, 
 
1 88 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 gives strange delight, in place of overwhelming pain, 
 because the dark shadow-tracery throws into brighter 
 relief the firm beauty of righteousness behind, so 
 the assured faith of the mediaeval audience made 
 Whitsuntide and Corpus Christi, with their solemn 
 spectacles, soul-refreshing holidays. The Christian 
 tragedy met the basal requirement of Aristotle in 
 that the minds of the beholders were purified by 
 pity and by terror. But still the foreground effect 
 was one of suffering, and the responsive sympathy 
 was exhaustingly intense. In the drama, as in life, 
 there was need of comedy to relieve the tension 
 of emotion. The early playwrights, as the early 
 carvers, were pupils of nature, and did not dream 
 that anything which pertained to life could be 
 alien to art. The grotesque seems to have been 
 spontaneous with both classes of workmen, and, 
 to a degree, unconscious. Reference here is had 
 rather to the significantly intrusive figures and the 
 studied comic roles. It is life that gives warrant 
 for the imp in the angel choir of Lincoln. It is 
 life that gives warrant for Noah's thorny-tempered 
 wife and sheepish old Joseph. And art, in holding 
 close to life, finds herself the gainer. As the hu- 
 mours of the grave-digger throw into deeper shadow 
 the waiting churchyard, with its open grave, and 
 Hamlet's brooding heart, as King Lear's elemental 
 agony of wrath shows more pitiful beside the whim- 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 189 
 
 sies of his sweet and bitter fool, so have the Miracle 
 Cycles artistic need of their scolding dame and 
 blundering old carpenter. 
 
 Shakespeare gave his august sanction to this fidel- 
 ity of the Gothic drama to life. The musicians pass 
 their idle jests while, to all appearance and belief, 
 death lies on Juliet 
 
 " like an untimely frost 
 Upon the sweetest flower of all the field." 
 
 The black passion of Shylock is encircled by mirth- 
 ful romance. And more and more, with Shake- 
 speare's ever deepening comprehension of humanity, 
 the comedy presses nearer and nearer to the very 
 seat of tragedy. The helplessness of king and hus- 
 band before the unbridled tongue of Paulina pro- 
 vokes the smile of the bystanding lords, even in 
 their painful apprehension for Hermione. Out of 
 his cloud of gloom Hamlet will still make sombre 
 sport of "tedious old fools," and Timon's angry 
 eyes must bear to be confronted by a burlesque 
 of his own life-wasting misery in Apemantus. 
 
 The earliest of the great English realists, Chaucer, 
 a secular dramatist born before the secular drama, 
 holds the mirror up to life as frankly as does 
 Shakespeare. But the star-bright idealists, Mar- 
 lowe, Spenser, Shelley, are hopelessly at a loss 
 before the comic. Lovers of Marlowe trust that 
 
190 THE EXGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 most of his comic scenes, gross and pointless as 
 they too often are, were written for him. The 
 audience knew, and Marlowe knew, that comedy, 
 though not such comedy, should relieve the terror 
 of Faustus, but it was not in him to find and furnish 
 it, for the idealist is a runaway from the school 
 of life to the far-horizoned uplands of dreamland. 
 Such truants are enviable in their escape from the 
 coarse and the degrading. It is with the realistic 
 comedy of Chaucer and Shakespeare that there 
 come in the vulgar jokes and all that offensive 
 indecency of expression which Chaucer so cheerily 
 and ingeniously maintains is required by the laws of 
 realistic art. 
 
 Turning from the structural principles of the Mir- 
 acle Cycle to its characterisation, we meet again the 
 realistic method. The third main source of Miracle 
 material is to be looked for in the rural life of 
 mediaeval England, especially among the shepherds 
 of Yorkshire and Lancashire, merry of mood, even 
 in their poverty, and especially by the humble domes- 
 tic hearth, where, no less than in Wordsworth's day, 
 the baby boy lay busied with his mimic games, 
 
 " Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, 
 With light upon him from his father's eyes." 
 
 There is no one feature of these rude old dramas 
 more winning than the warmth of sympathy they 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 191 
 
 evince with all the pure and tender, wholesome 
 and generous brood of household affections. It was 
 this kindly touch of nature which so endeared the 
 Abraham pageant to these simple audiences, which 
 stirred them to such vehement wrath against Herod, 
 murderer of the innocents, which gave its beauty 
 to the group about the manger, its pathos to the 
 group about the cross, which made the women wail 
 and sway in unison with the long lament of the 
 Mater Dolorosa, as the lacerated body of her son 
 was laid across her knees. 
 
 It is palpably absurd that these oriental scenes, 
 dating from the dawn of the Christian era or from 
 dim patriarchal times, should be given a fourteenth- 
 century Northumbrian or Midland setting. The 
 immediate cause was ignorance. The insular monks 
 and tradesmen who composed and presented these 
 plays were without information as to the customs of 
 the East and of antiquity. Possibly there was also 
 a remote cause. If the populace of Rome so late 
 as the seventeenth century implicitly believed that 
 the Divine Tragedy had been enacted within their 
 own city at the very spots where they were accus- 
 tomed to see it represented by the erection of a 
 manger, or a cross, the scattering of palms, or the 
 strewing of cypress boughs, it is not strange that 
 mediaeval simplicity made the Christian story so 
 inherent a part of English life as to feel no incon- 
 
192 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 gruity in framing the Holy Family in a Yorkshire 
 environment. At the heart of this folly lay, per- 
 haps, a sleeping wisdom, in that the drama of Pales- 
 tine is indeed not bound to locality or date, but 
 belongs to all peoples and to all time. 
 
 The characterisation in the Mysteries is purely 
 realistic, with the vividness of actual portraiture, 
 where it concerns the rank and file of society. 
 Noah's wife — for the Noah of the Mysteries is a 
 yeoman — might have joined, with her distaff, any 
 gossiping group of ''spinsters in the sun" from 
 Lancashire to Devon, and held her own in racy 
 monologue against the Wife of Bath herself. The 
 Coventry sompnour would have out-roared in jovial 
 fellowship his boisterous brother of the "fyr-reed 
 cherubynnes face," and one can readily picture the 
 Bethlehem shepherds, chafed as they were by their 
 social discontents, listening on the village green with 
 confirmatory nods and frowns, while some gaunt 
 clerk of Oxenford read aloud from well-thumbed 
 manuscript a canto of Piers Plowman. Democratic 
 satire of a burly, good-natured sort painted the rant- 
 ing tyrants, Pharaoh and Caesar, Herod and Pilate, 
 but whatever secular criticism might have manifested 
 itself in the delineation of the ecclesiastics was kept 
 down by the clerical authorship or revision. 
 
 The Mystery treatment of the devils is amusing 
 in its childish egotism. They are viewed simply as 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS — DRAMATIC VALUES. 193 
 
 the enemies of the human race. After the first 
 plunge of Lucifer and his faction into hellmouth, 
 their deviltry is taken for granted, and their doom 
 accepted as irreversibly sealed. Their role in the 
 universe is settled, their costume determined, and 
 nobody wonders about the look behind the mask. 
 Later centuries may wax inquisitive. Milton may 
 trace the deterioration of Lucifer, the fading of the 
 bright archangelhood. Mrs. Browning may seek to 
 comprehend the fire of his torment : — 
 
 " that fire-hate 
 
 * * * # * 
 
 Wherein I, angel, in antagonism 
 
 To God and His reflex beatitudes, 
 
 Moan ever in the central universe 
 
 With the great woe of striving against Love." 
 
 But our Mystery poets are supremely unconcerned 
 as to the secrets of demon consciousness. Their 
 presentation is distinctly objective. The devils are 
 shown at their work, and busy enough about their 
 mischievous labours, and pleased enough with their 
 numerous successes these agents of evil seem to 
 be. In their loss of spiritual susceptibility, they 
 appear rather of the Mephistophiles type, but among 
 their victims is no Faustus to wreak his restless 
 curiosity upon them and force their frightful confi- 
 dence. The human personages of the Miracle Cycles 
 evidently regard the devils much as pioneers regard 
 
194 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 wild beasts, scientific inquiry being suspended for 
 terror of claws and teeth. The very simplicity of 
 the characterisation makes these grotesque fiends 
 graphic and, in crude fashion, dramatically effective. 
 Yet, although they sometimes gave an impressible 
 man the nightmare, the average spectator had a lurk- 
 ing affection for the lesser devils. They were all he 
 had left of the goblins, kobolds, and pixies of his 
 ancestral heathenism. As for Satan himself, there 
 was a delicious excitement in viewing the shaggy 
 monster on the pageant scaffold, with God or Christ 
 at hand to hurl him down presently into hellmouth. 
 Seeing Satan off the stage might be quite another 
 matter. 
 
 i The characterisation of the third class of dramatis 
 toersonce> divine and angelic beings, was attended by 
 graver dangers, which the Miracle Cycles did not 
 escape. The first authority in English drama, Mr. 
 Ward, says in regard to this : — 
 
 " These Mysteries teach, in their way, the lesson which 
 the strange oaths of the Middle Ages teach in another, that 
 a constant familiarity with the bodily presentment of sacred 
 persons and things bred a material grossness in the whole 
 gesthetical atmosphere of the people." 
 
 This is a serious charge, and one which cannot be 
 gainsaid. As the gilt peruke grew familiar, the 
 dream of the halo faded away. As the attire and 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 195 
 
 demeanour of the celestial beings became conven- 
 tionalised and hackneyed, the commonplaces of the 
 pageant scaffold, the uplift and the glory of con- 
 ception melted and were gone. The stage prop- 
 erties hung like clogs on the wings of heavenly 
 imagination. 
 
 But if this be true of the aesthetic influence of 
 the Miracles, what must have been their religious 
 effect ? That they were originally charged with 
 devout passion who can doubt ? Christendom was 
 more than any nation. The Church enfolded all. 
 Within the vast embrace of her beautiful walls 
 there was room for all of human life, its mirth 
 and sin and sorrow, its household charities and 
 altar mysteries, its broken human loves and baf- 
 fled Godward longings. Perhaps no one of the 
 essential dramatic elements is stronger in the Mir- 
 acles than the element of passion. Playwrights, 
 actors, audience, all combined in flooding these un- 
 kempt plays with irresistible fervours and ardours. 
 These were religious, but not as later centuries 
 understand the term. Not exclusive, but inclusive, 
 was that consecrated passion which carved waggish 
 designs on the misereres of Chester cathedral, and 
 called forth peal on peal of laughter from the 
 throngs who flocked to see the Chester pageants. 
 But this passion, to maintain itself pure and rich, 
 needed to be fed from a more ethereal height than 
 
196 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 the scaffold platform. The angels, who waved their 
 gilt wings century after century on those trundling 
 stages, made no advance in individuality or symbolic 
 beauty. That is not so strange. Angels are not 
 easily persuaded to stoop to human acquaintance. 
 Since the days of Ezekiel, or, at latest, of the seer 
 of Patmos, no poet save Dante has looked upon 
 the angels. But the Miracle conception of the 
 Creator need not, one would think, be quite so 
 bad. It is, with few exceptions, either puerile and 
 preposterous, or remote and colourless. It was on 
 Christ and Mary Mother that the ardent devotion 
 of medievalism lavished itself. It was those gra- 
 cious Presences that made the pageant scaffold holy. 
 The rude, warm heart of England still throbbed 
 in love and adoration for these, long after the snow- 
 white vesture and crimson shoes had lost signifi- 
 cance in familiarity. But none the less the material 
 presentment was slowly chilling that great religious 
 heart. An ascending Christ, whom the angels had 
 to draw up by ropes, could not hold fealty forever. 
 The modern world refused allegiance, and the pag- 
 eant scaffold fell. For, while the Middle Ages were 
 the ages of art, as they were the ages of faith, it 
 was a romantic art, in certain features a barbaric 
 art, unguided, untaught ; and it was a blind faith, 
 bowed in ignorant obedience before the authority 
 of Rome. The Renascence drew back the curtain 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 197 
 
 which had so long hidden the classic world, and, 
 as the severely ordered beauty of its noble art 
 became revealed, the wild, joyous, youthful riot of 
 the mediaeval blood was awed and tamed. But it 
 is not enough to say that the refined taste of the 
 Renascence period laughed down the crude old 
 dramas. The Reformation frowned them down. 
 They had rendered religious service. Who can 
 doubt it ? They had impressed one aspect of the 
 Christian revelation, but it was time that another 
 aspect should claim attention. In the main the 
 Mysteries were faithful to the watchword : " God is 
 love." That patient figure of the buffeted, taunted, 
 crucified Christ, to curse and insult answering not 
 again, turning His cheek to the smiter, uttering 
 with dying lips a prayer for His tormentors, — 
 how it tutored, mastered, transformed, exalted the 
 fierce Northmen, who, for five centuries and more, 
 gazed upon the enacted tragedy ! The lesson, even 
 yet, is far from learned. The victories of force, 
 the flash of animal courage, still appeal to English 
 instinct more promptly than the victories of gentle- 
 ness, the glow of moral heroism. Yet the Gothic 
 blood was under schooling for this very fault all 
 through the Middle Ages. The Griseldas, the Nut- 
 brown Maids, the Fair Annies united with saint- 
 lore and martyr-lore, and with the constant spec- 
 tacle of sad-robed monks, grasping missal and rosary 
 
198 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 instead of sword and bridle-rein, of barefoot friars, 
 of nuns and penitents, to stamp the fundamental 
 tenet of Christianity deep upon the rugged Teutonic 
 heart. Central in that mediaeval object-teaching 
 stood the white, golden-haloed figure, about whom 
 all the pageants of the Miracle Cycle sprang up, 
 but the occasional false note, as the pageant of 
 the Harrowing of Hell, with the overthrow of the 
 Fiend by Christ in furious wrestle, shows too 
 clearly that the native paganism in the beholders 
 was not completely melted, that the old war-song 
 of Beowulf still echoed in the air. 
 
 Nevertheless, the prevailing tendency of the New 
 Testament pageants was to show the beauty of 
 meekness, the grace of forgiveness, the redemptive 
 power of love. But the text " God is love " is not 
 the only key-word of the Christian religion. It was 
 said again : " God is a Spirit, and they that worship 
 Him must worship Him in spirit." Because this 
 word had been wellnigh forgotten by mediaeval 
 Catholicism, Protestantism swept over northern Eu- 
 rope like a fresh, strong, purifying wave. And none 
 of the products of the Middle Ages had sinned more 
 grievously against spirituality than the Miracle Plays, 
 with their God in a gilt peruke and their Christ in 
 red slippers, their insistence upon the physical 
 agonies of Gethsemane and Calvary, their palpable 
 Immaculate Conceptions and Resurrections. The 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS— DRAMATIC VALUES. 199 
 
 Reformation, hungering and thirsting after the 
 Divine, could not brook the triviality, the grossness, 
 the falseness, of the old religious stage. It swept 
 the land clear of it. It destroyed records and manu- 
 scripts, — all with the same headstrong vehemence, 
 the same impetuosity of indignation with which it 
 tore down the long-worshipped images of the Vir- 
 gin, rifled the shrines of the saints, scraped away 
 frescoes, and mutilated carvings, and crushed into 
 myriad fragments the enchanted windows, which 
 not all the wizardry of modern art and science can 
 replace. The Miracle Plays but went the way of 
 all who have ' served their time, who have done 
 with much of evil more of good, and whose mission 
 is ended. Their opportunity was a large one. 
 Jusserand exclaims: — 
 
 " Cinq a six cents ans de popularite ! Quelle piece de 
 theatre occupa si longtemps la scene ! Est-il une seule 
 ceuvre litteraire qui soit restee tant de siecles vivante, au 
 grand soliel, avant d'aller tristement jouir de l'immortalite, a 
 l'ombre des bibliotheques des savants? Au premier abord, 
 nous avons peine a comprendre aujourd'hui cette admiration 
 universelle, car enfin ce n'etait pas seulement la foule des 
 marchands et des laboureurs qui allait voir Pilate et Noe ; 
 c'etait toute la ville et meme toute la nation, les gens du 
 .peuple, les bourgeois, les nobles, les clercs, et le roi." 
 
 And with all other service rendered by the Miracle 
 Cycles, they served the Elizabethan drama well. 
 
200 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 They not only bequeathed to it scope and freedom, 
 great constructive principles, reality of characterisa- 
 tion, and intensity of passion, but they paved the 
 way for its reception. They made England a nation 
 of actors, a nation of theatre-lovers, a nation of deep 
 dramatic cravings, who would be content with no 
 such learned and elegant trifling as amused the court 
 and university, but cried out for range, for earnest- 
 ness, for life. To follow the history of feudal Eng- 
 land through a series of plays was little for those 
 whose grandsires had followed the history of man- 
 kind. Londoners had looked already on a more 
 heart-moving tragedy than Hamlet. 
 
MORALITIES. 
 
 207 
 
 an<"2 upon this harassed fiend, whom he teased and 
 tormented with a thousand nimble pranks, until the 
 roguish servitor met his appropriate end of being 
 carried off to hell upon the Devil's back, — unless, 
 indeed, as in the play of King Darius, the Vice 
 scampered down to hell of his own accord to escape 
 the society of the Virtues. Sometimes the Vice, 
 whose proper office it was to instigate the hero of 
 the play to wickedness, took it upon him to protect 
 his victim from the premature assaults of the Devil, 
 but more frequently this nimble Harlequin seemed 
 to plague the clumsy, howling fiend from sheer 
 wantonness of mischief. He liked to leap upon 
 the Devil's shaggy shoulders, belabouring them 
 with his famous wooden sword until the exasper- 
 ated monster roared again, to the exceeding joy 
 of the audience. The function of the Vice thus 
 being that of chief comedian, he ordinarily wore 
 the gay, parti-coloured dress of the domestic fool, — 
 a favourite figure, at about the middle of the six- 
 teenth century, in the halls of the English nobility. 
 This mere circumstance of the dress doubtless had 
 no small share in bringing about the transformation 
 of the Vice, who, on the Morality stage, was little 
 better than a buffoon, regaling the audience with 
 capers, jugglery, and verbal quiddities, into the 
 Feste and Touchstone of the Shakespearian drama. 
 But occasionally the plot required the Vice to ap- 
 
208 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 pear as a gallant, or take some other part for 
 which the fool-dress was unsuitable, and so his 
 costume became subject to almost as many changes 
 as his name. This role of the Vice, so ingenious 
 a mode of relieving what must have been otherwise 
 the almost insupportable tedium of the Morality- 
 Plays, was unknown to the French stage. In this 
 their own creation the English rejoiced hugely, and 
 it left a deep impression upon the popular memory, 
 as various allusions of the Jacobean drama, espe- 
 cially of the Jonsonian drama, bear witness. 
 
 But Klein holds the Vice, with all the other sins 
 this skipping antic has to answer for, responsible for 
 the final triumph of the Moralities over the Mys- 
 teries. The Devil of the Miracle Play was no theo- 
 logical abstraction, but a dramatic character of 
 originally heroic proportions, Lucifer, the Archangel 
 Fallen. So long as the Devil appeared upon the 
 Morality stage, in however uncouth and preposter- 
 ous a form, something of this original reality still 
 invested him, differentiating him sharply from the 
 shadowy throng of allegorical personages. But pres- 
 ently the Vice, with his incessant badgering, hunted 
 the Devil off the boards, actually worried him from 
 the stage where he had ruled for centuries, usurped 
 his place, and degraded his primal significance into 
 tomfooleries.-ft-This final substitution of the Vice 
 for the Devil robbed the Morality of its one shred 
 
MORALITIES. 209 
 
 of dramatic substance. Thenceforth the Moral Play 
 was dramatically a thing of naught, tending directly 
 toward didacticism and polemics. It was in itself a 
 retrogression from the Mystery, although opening 
 the way, in its escape from sacred material and from 
 set roles, for originality and dramatic freshness. 
 
 The prevailing opinion of our assembly of critics 
 would seem to be that the development of the 
 Moralities from the Miracles was superficial, not 
 fundamental. Moral Plays found their suggestion 
 in the allegorising tendencies of the times and took 
 form under the influence of the elder drama, varied 
 by the impulse toward dramatic novelty, and also 
 by the impulse toward didactic completeness, in that 
 the Mysteries, as Mr. Pollard has pointed out, gave 
 only the historical teaching of the Church, not her 
 ethical and sacramental holdings. 
 
 The classification of the extant English Moralities 
 has been a dark matter. Even the patient, much- 
 perusing Mr. Collier left them in a clutter. But 
 Mr. Pollard has recently brought a lantern into this 
 lumber attic, making a valuable distinction between 
 the longer, earlier Moral Plays, "concerned with 
 issues that touch the whole of human nature," and 
 the Moral Interludes, setting forth only a portion of 
 the human warfare, and so brief as to serve for pres- 
 entation between the courses of luxurious banquets. 
 The Moral Interludes fall again into two classes, the 
 
210 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 first warning youth against profligacy and false 
 theology, the second against intellectual sloth and 
 false science. 
 
 It would probably not be too much in the way of 
 theatrical excitement, if we should attend the per- 
 formance of a representative play in each of these 
 three divisions. Transporting ourselves back to the 
 unhappy reign of Henry VI., we join the merry- 
 making throng of villagers, who, for this once forget- 
 ful of wars in France and miseries at home, are 
 pressing in from various East Midland hamlets to 
 the central market town, where, as criers a week 
 ago announced throughout the neighbourhood, to-day 
 is to be exhibited " on the grene in ryall aray " the 
 new play known as the Cast ell of Perseverance. It 
 puzzles peasant brains to comprehend how it can 
 be a play when there are no glittering pageant car- 
 riages rolling from street to street, but nevertheless 
 the rustics hasten with the clerks and gentles to 
 secure good places on the borders of the grassy 
 common. Within the green enclosure rises a tempo- 
 rary erection which bears some rough resemblance 
 to a Norman hold. It is propped up from the 
 ground with blocks, so disclosing a bed beneath it. 
 The audience, understanding that the chief actor, 
 Genus Humanum, is concealed beneath the bed, 
 waiting his cue, regard this piece of domestic archi- 
 tecture with lively curiosity. Grouped about the 
 
MORALITIES. 211 
 
 castle, at a respectful distance, are five stationary 
 scaffolds : the respective stages of the World, the 
 Flesh, the Devil, Covetousness, and God. 
 
 The three first grandees, the World, the Flesh, 
 and the Devil, appear each on his own platform, with 
 braggart speeches. Then little Genus Humanum, 
 the white baptismal cloth thrown over his baby 
 head, crawls out from under the couch. This un- 
 fortunate child, not yet a day old, although a fluent 
 declaimer, is at once assailed by a good angel from 
 the right and a bad angel from the left. Each 
 presses his guardianship upon the bewildered infant, 
 who between them wavers "as wynde in watyr." 
 But the bad angel, offering gold, which tips the 
 scale, quiets all fears for the future by the sugges- 
 tion : — 
 
 " With the werld thou mayst be bold, 
 Tyl thou be sexty wynter hold ; 
 Wanne thi nose waxit cold 
 Thanne mayst thou drawe to goode." 
 
 The poor baby declares for the bad angel, and 
 the good angel is left wringing his hands and chant- 
 ing a lament. Genus Humanum, grown to youth's 
 estate, visits the scaffolds of the World, the Flesh, 
 and the Devil, making such disreputable acquaint- 
 ances as Pleasure, Folly, Slander, and the Seven 
 Deadly Sins. The good angel is " sobbing sore " 
 
212 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 over these wandering courses, when Shrift and Con- 
 fession revive his courage for a fresh appeal to Genus 
 Humanum, who, now in the fullness of manhood, 
 admits his error, forsakes his sins, and begs for pro- 
 tection from his enemies. He is accordingly housed 
 for safe-keeping in the " Castell of Perseverance," — 
 
 " a precyous place, 
 Fful of vertu and of grace." 
 
 Slander hurries with the news up to the scaffolds 
 of the World and the Flesh. The Seven Deadly 
 Sins, led by the Devil, storm the castle, the Virtues 
 beating them back with roses, emblems of the 
 Saviour's Passion. This storming scene calls out 
 unbounded enthusiasm from the audience, many of 
 whom have served in the French wars. But wrin- 
 kled old Covetousness softly descends from his chilly 
 scaffold in the northeast and, by the promise of a 
 thousand marks, lures Genus Humanum, now an 
 old man, out from his sure fortress. The money, 
 which its new owner is forbidden to give to the 
 poor or to the Church, is hidden in the ground, 
 until Death appears on the scene, when the World 
 claims the treasure for his own. Genus Humanum, 
 terrified and wretched, is smitten down by Death, 
 and his trembling soul mounts the eastern scaffold, 
 God's scaffold, for judgment. The four daughters 
 of God, fair sister-angels, gather about him. Truth, 
 
MORALITIES. 21 3 
 
 clad in "sad grene," recounts his misdeeds. Justice, 
 robed in burning red, would refuse him salvation. 
 
 " Lete hym drynke as he brewyit." 
 
 But Peace, garmented all in black, urges that if 
 any sinner be left unreconciled to God, her mourn- 
 ing has no end, and white-vested Mercy pleads 
 the Divine Passion. So, as always in these old 
 Moralities, pity and pardon close the drama. The 
 sin-stained soul is purified and blessed. Genus 
 Humanum, after all his earthly waywardness and 
 weakness, is saved by grace of God. 
 
 In a play like this we have no longer the history 
 of the human race, conceived from the Christian 
 point of view, but of the individual soul. To por- 
 tray the life of man from the cradle to beyond the 
 grave, even to the fixing of his eternal destiny, is 
 no mean endeavour. To depict this human life as 
 the prize for which heavenly spirits wage continual 
 warfare against the lords of hell has in it something 
 of dramatic salt. But the characters are empty 
 masks, and the essential absurdity in a hero who 
 must be represented at the varying stages from boy- 
 hood to old age — indeed, to post-mortem spiritual 
 existence — is a difficulty not to be overcome. 
 
 The Castell of Perseverance, probably based, more 
 or less directly, upon a French original, is one of 
 the Macro Moralities, a group of three old plays 
 
214 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 which derive their alliterative title from having once 
 been in the possession of a certain Mr. Macro. The 
 second of these, entitled by Collier Mind, Will, and 
 Understanding, and by Furnivall A Morality of Wis- 
 dom Who is Christ, is also a play of scope and 
 dignity. Wisdom, resplendent in purple, gold, and 
 ermine, opens the play with a declaration of His 
 divinity. Anima, the Human Soul, white-robed and 
 beautiful, kneels and beseeches His love. After 
 long theological discussion, the Five Wits enter as 
 five innocent maidens and are bidden by Wisdom 
 preserve their whiteness and keep themselves un- 
 spotted from the world. Mind, Will, and Under- 
 standing share in the purity and in the exhortation. 
 Then enters Lucifer, wearing under his devil's dress 
 the suit of a dandy. He corrupts the Mind, the 
 Understanding, and the Will, and the Soul grows 
 foul with the foulness of these her ministers. Evil 
 creatures in fantastic costumes troop about them 
 and dance the Devil's dance. Wisdom returns to 
 find the Anima He has loved hideously transformed, 
 but in the light of His presence Mind, Will, and 
 Understanding return to the truth, and Anima is 
 restored to beauty. 
 
 The third of the Macro Moralities, entitled Man- 
 kind, still waits an editor. Again is delineated the 
 struggle between Mercy and Mischief for the soul 
 of Mankind, who, at the outset, is obedient to Mercy 
 
MORALITIES. 
 
 215 
 
 and disposed, as befits the son of Adam, to ply the 
 spade with diligence. But idle and vicious com- 
 panions get by trickery this honourable implement 
 away from him and lead him so far astray that he 
 is on the point of hanging himself, when Mercy 
 comes to his rescue. Mankind's own account of his 
 fallen state is too pithy to be passed over : — 
 
 " My name is Mankynde : I have my composycyon 
 Of a body and of a soull, of condycyon contrarye : 
 Betwyx the tweyn ys a grett dyvisyon ; 
 
 He that shulde be sojecte now he hath the victory. 
 Thys ys to me a lementable story, 
 
 To se my flesch of my soull to have governaunce : 
 Wher the good wyff ys master, the good man may be 
 sory." 
 
 Mujidus et Infans, another of these ancient Moral- 
 ities, would serve as an extended commentary on 
 the famous oration of the melancholy Jaques. The 
 infant, whom the cynical old bachelor of Arden so 
 ungraciously describes as 
 
 " Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms," 
 
 is here playfully styled Daliance by his fond mother. 
 Little Daliance speedily grows into mischievous 
 Wanton, who fully shares the objections of his 
 Shakespearian successor to school-going, being, in- 
 deed, the liveliest youngster that ever robbed an 
 orchard or spied a sparrow's nest. 
 
2l6 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 " I can daunce and also skyppe, 
 I can playe at the chery pytte, 
 And I can wystell you a fytte." 
 
 But top-spinning, run-away Wanton becomes in 
 short time the fickle lover, Lust-and-Liking, 
 
 " All game and gle, 
 All myrthe and melodye." 
 
 Soon his one and twenty years are spent, and his 
 name is altered to Manhood. Hitherto Mundus 
 has had undisputed ascendancy over this reckless 
 Infans, but now Conscience presents himself, meet- 
 ing with a somewhat discouraging reception. 
 
 Manhode. Conscyence ! what the devyll man is he ? 
 Conscyence. Syr, a techer of the spyrytualete. 
 Manhode. Spyrytualete ! what the devyll may that be ? 
 
 Folly makes his way more readily with young Man- 
 hood, bestowing upon him the new appellation of 
 Shame, but Conscience appeals to Perseverance for 
 help, and by the time the hero has reached the 
 title of Age, shifting 
 
 " Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon," 
 
 he proves tractable to holy counsel, and is finally 
 dubbed Repentance. 
 
 A sterner drama is Everyman, deservedly the 
 most popular of these earlier Moralities. Dr. Henri 
 Logemann has lately shown, by publishing the two in 
 parallel columns, that the English Morality is taken 
 
MORALITIES. 2 1 7 
 
 from a Dutch play, Elkerlyck, probably by Petrus 
 Dorlandus. A Latin version also is extant. 
 
 Death, God's " mighty messenger," summons 
 Everyman to the long pilgrimage. Bribes, tears, 
 entreaties are all of no avail. The one grace the 
 grim messenger will grant is permission for Every- 
 man to take with him on that mysterious journey 
 such of his friends as may consent to bear him 
 company. Everyman applies to Fellowship, who 
 is ready to follow on to feast or frolic, but flees 
 away at the mention of Death. Kindred lamely 
 excuses himself as having the cramp in his toe, 
 and Gold, the tempter and destroyer, exults in 
 Everyman's distress. Good Deeds would gladly 
 serve him, but she lies helpless, crushed under the 
 weight of his sins, until her sister Knowledge guides 
 him to Confession, who shrives him from his guilt. 
 Then Good Deeds is able to rise and accompany 
 Everyman as he paces fearfully toward the church- 
 yard. Beauty, Strength, Discretion, and Five Wits 
 attend him for a space, but shudder at the sight 
 of the grave and fall away. Good Deeds alone, 
 though partaking of their dread, stands firm. 
 
 " Shorte our ende and mynysshe our payne," 
 
 she entreats, and they go down into the grave 
 together, an angel overhead singing welcome to the 
 passing soul. 
 
2l8 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 A fragment of an old Morality, somewhat kindred 
 in theme, has recently been discovered in Ireland. 
 Here man figures as the King of Life, with Health 
 and Strength for his attendant knights. Confident 
 in their support, he sends Mirth, his messenger, 
 to challenge Death. The proud challenger is slain, 
 but his soul is rescued from hell by the intercession 
 of Mary. 
 
 These two latter Moralities, it should be noticed, 
 do not set forth progressively the course of human 
 life, but they gather up into the last inevitable 
 hour the power and significance of all that has 
 gone before. A comparatively late Morality of the 
 ampler type, Nature, written by Henry Medwall, 
 chaplain to Cardinal Morton, early in the reign 
 of Henry VII., follows again the elder fashion, 
 depicting man as wavering between allegiance to 
 Reason and to Sensuality. The Deadly Sins change 
 their names to deceive him, Gluttony, for instance, 
 presenting himself as Good Fellowship, and Covet- 
 ousness as Worldly Policy. Age, at last, dismisses 
 the Vices and welcomes the Virtues, and this play, 
 like the rest, ends with a promise of salvation. 
 
 It is clear that these early Moralities bear a sup- 
 plementary relation to the Miracle Cycles. It is 
 Christian experience added to Christian theology, 
 and Christian experience in its full scope and de- 
 velopment. There is no Vice in these original 
 
MORALITIES. 
 
 2I 9 
 
 Moralities, and, of course, no trace of the Reformed 
 Faith. It is not until we reach the reign of Henry 
 VIII. that we can expect to find the drama taking 
 up arms for Protestantism. 
 
 The Moral Interludes bring us fairly into Tudor 
 times. If we would see one of these degenerate 
 Moralities performed, we must take our way not 
 to the open green, but to some vaulted banquet- 
 hall. A group of strolling actors, only four in num- 
 ber, sheltering themselves under the name of my 
 Lord Cardinal's Players, have scented the feast 
 and come begging for leave to show an interlude. 
 There are tawdry stage effects carried in bundles 
 upon their shoulders ; there is a boy for the woman's 
 parts, and there is a choice to be had of some half 
 dozen stale Moralities, as well known to audience 
 as to players, though the verses are frayed and 
 tattered by time, like the wigs and mantles. It 
 is a zealously Protestant household, and the voice 
 of the company is for Lusty Juvenilis. There are 
 various halts and hitches in the performance, for 
 there are nine parts to be carried by the four players, 
 and, if any article of the wardrobe is mislaid, if 
 Hypocrisy cannot put his hand upon his dancing 
 pumps, or if Satan has forgotten his horns, there 
 is nothing for the audience to do but sit and crack 
 nuts until the boy has fetched the missing prop- 
 erties from the players' squalid lodging. But de- 
 
220 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 spite these occasional embarrassments, the little 
 troupe plays with such vivacity and spirit that the 
 spectators never once suspect how dull and un- 
 dramatic their chosen interlude really is. 
 
 After a didactic prologue, advocating severity in 
 the training of youth, Lusty Juventus enters, singing 
 a song which is much too good for the play. 
 
 " In a herber green, asleep where as I lay, 
 
 The birds sang sweet in the middes of the day ; 
 I dreamed fast of mirth and play : 
 
 In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. 
 
 " Methought I walked still to and fro, 
 
 And from her company I could not go ; 
 But when I waked, it was not so : 
 
 In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. 
 
 " Therefore my heart is sorely pight 
 Of her alone to have a sight, 
 Which is my joy and heart's delight : 
 
 In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure." 
 
 Two solemn graybeards, Good Counsel and Knowl- 
 edge, take this young trifler in hand, and, by dint of 
 prolonged catechism and exhortation, make a Protes- 
 tant of him. Rejoicing over this hopeful conversion, 
 the two sermonisers withdraw, dutifully followed by 
 Lusty Juventus, whereupon the Devil, with a roar 
 and a bound, takes possession of the stage. He 
 complains that, while the old people remain good 
 Papists, the young are all flocking to the new faith. 
 
MORALITIES. 221 
 
 " They will not believe, they plainly say, 
 In old traditions and made by men, 
 But they will live, as the Scripture teacheth them." 
 
 The Devil bethinks himself, in this perplexity, of 
 his son Hypocrisy, who comes capering upon the 
 boards with many a nimble antic, singing a rattling 
 ditty about the shams of the Romish Church : — 
 
 " Holy days, holy fastings, 
 Holy twitchings, holy tastings, 
 
 Holy visions and sights, 
 Holy wax, holy lead, 
 Holy water, holy bread, 
 
 To drive away sprites, 
 Holy fire, holy palm, 
 Holy oil, holy cream, 
 
 And holy ashes also ; 
 Holy brooches, holy rings, 
 Holy kneeling, holy censings, 
 
 And a hundred trim-trams mo." 
 
 Hypocrisy engages to recapture Juventus, and, 
 encountering the poor lad before his Protestantism 
 has had time to dry, by flattery and ridicule wins 
 him over. Fellowship, in dishevelled finery, struts 
 upon the stage, followed by the boy of the troupe 
 in the guise of a woman, Abominable Living. The 
 four players, the entire company being now in 
 action, make merry together and sing another blithe 
 and buoyant song. 
 
222 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 " Why should not youth fulfil his own mind, 
 As the course of nature doth him bind ? 
 Is not everything ordained to do his kind ? 
 Rep07't me to you, report me to you. 
 
 " Do not the flowers spring fresh and gay, 
 Pleasant and sweet in the month of May ? 
 And when their time cometh, they fade away. 
 Report me to you, report me to you." 
 
 The stage is left empty for a few minutes, while 
 one of the players dresses for Good Counsel, who 
 presently appears, much cast down over the defec- 
 tion of Juventus. This young backslider, entering 
 with an air of cheerful impudence, is soon brow- 
 beaten into repentance and falls prone upon the 
 floor in extreme distress of mind. Merciful Prom- 
 ises raises the penitent, who addresses a long and 
 edifying exhortation to the audience. This well 
 over, the players drop upon their knees and pray 
 for the king, the nobles, and the magistrates. The 
 guests politely applaud the interlude, while the lord 
 of the feast tosses a few gold pieces to the players, 
 who fall to scrambling for them in the rushes. 
 
 These Moral Interludes were not all of Protestant 
 complexion. A Papist household would regale itself 
 with Hycke-Scorncr, or, if Hyckc-Scomer was deemed 
 old-fashioned, with its more elegant recast, The Inter- 
 lude of Youth. Hycke-Scorner is a curiosity in the 
 allegorical drama, for there is nothing dramatic about 
 
MORALITIES. 223 
 
 it and little enough of allegory. There are six 
 characters, three good and three bad. The former 
 class is made up of Pity, Contemplation, and Per- 
 severance, sociable old worthies, who take occasion 
 to deplore, among other lamentable matters, that 
 which the nineteenth century is inclined to claim 
 as her particular discovery, — the sufferings of the 
 poor : — 
 
 " I have herde many men complayne pyteously ; 
 They saye they be smyten with the swerde of poverty, 
 In every place where I do go : 
 Fewe frendes povertee dooth fynde, 
 And these ryche men ben unkynde." 
 
 The dissolute young madcaps are, in this case, 
 Frewyll, Imagynacyon, and Hycke-Scorner, this last 
 an extensive traveller, who has even journeyed to 
 
 " the londe of Rumbelowe, 
 Thre myl out of hell." 
 
 But although he gives his name to the play, 
 Hycke-Scorner is the least important character in 
 the cast, no one taking the trouble to convert him, 
 while his two wild companions, by the exertion of 
 the venerable preachers, are duly provided with new 
 names and robes of righteousness. 
 
 The Interlude of Youth, conjectured to belong to 
 the reign of Mary, is a better piece of work. Riot, 
 modelled after Imagination in the earlier play, takes 
 
224 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 the part of the Vice, and, seconded by Pride and 
 Lady Lechery, seduces Youth, who is rescued in 
 the end by Charity and Humility. The author bor- 
 rowed much of his language and something of his 
 characterisation from Hycke-Scorner> but he was alive 
 to the necessity of a central character and a consist- 
 ent theme. 
 
 The second class of Moral Interludes, the Inter- 
 ludes whose main concern is science rather than 
 ethics, has two notable examples extant in The 
 Nature of the Four Elements and Redford's Wyt and 
 Science. The first of these was written within the 
 next generation after the discovery of America, and 
 suggests the bewildering variety of new ideas into 
 which the human mind was eagerly inquiring. The 
 prologue is spoken by a Messenger, who laments 
 that all learning is sealed up in Latin books, and 
 that English literature amounts to nothing but idle 
 fantasies and ballads 
 
 " of love or other matter not worth a mite." 
 
 Nature enters and delivers to open-eared Human- 
 ity a lecture in astronomy, upon which Studious 
 Desire proceeds to examine him. Sensuality comes 
 to the relief of the fasting student and carries him off 
 to the tavern, where he is refreshed for a lesson in 
 geography, imparted by a travelled gentleman known 
 as Experience. Ignorance breaks in with a song 
 
MORALITIES. 225 
 
 and a dance, and Nature comes to see how Human- 
 ity is getting on, reminding him gravely that while 
 mirth and feasting are not altogether amiss, he 
 should devote himself principally to study, — a right 
 Renascence conclusion. 
 
 We will not venture before the stage of this for- 
 midable drama, with its "many proper points of 
 philosophy natural, and of divers strange effects and 
 causes," although the author fairly buttonholes us 
 with wistful importunity, protesting that the inter- 
 lude can be played in an hour and a half, or " if ye 
 list, ye may leave out much of the sad matter, as 
 the Messenger's part, and some of Nature's part, 
 and some of Experience's part, and yet the matter 
 will depend conveniently, and then it will not be 
 past three-quarters of an hour in length." 
 
 But if we must see one of these educational 
 Moralities, let it be Wyt and Science, written some 
 score of years before the birth of Shakespeare. 
 I think we shall not go astray if we enter the 
 many-gabled, half-timbered edifice of one of Edward 
 VI. 's Free Grammar Schools, where for the after- 
 noon Ovid and Seneca are thrown aside, and the 
 ruddy young Britons, with gleeful excitement and 
 stir, are making ready to perform, for the delecta- 
 tion of their admiring kith and kin, Master John 
 Redford's popular interlude. At one end of the 
 handsome Tudor hall, with its latticed windows and 
 
226 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 oak-raftered roof, a temporary stage has been roughly 
 knocked together. Down the length of the hall be- 
 low the stage are benches and stools for the stout 
 burghers and the merry wives, and everywhere 
 boys are thick as pepper, encamped in phalanxes 
 upon the floor, flattened against the walls, even 
 perched on the massive cross-beams of the roof. 
 A blue-eyed English lad, dressed in flowing gown 
 and long white beard for Reason, steps forth upon 
 the stage, and in a voice appropriately tremulous 
 confides to the audience that his daughter Science 
 and youthful Wit have fallen in love, and that he 
 himself is, on the whole, disposed to bless the banns, 
 enunciating the sound old doctrine : — 
 
 " Where pertyes together be enclynde 
 By gyftes of graces to love ech other, 
 
 There let them joyne the tone wyth the toother." 
 
 It is the head boy who comes on in the coveted 
 role of Wit, and all the little fellows on the floor 
 twist about impatiently through the preliminary 
 dialogue, until the giant Tediousness, an overgrown 
 young bully who is the terror of the lower forms, 
 strides out, yawning prodigiously, upon the stage, 
 in an ill-fitting suit of rusty mail, with a battered 
 helmet on his head. Too-impetuous Wit, without 
 waiting for " wepens of science," and deserted by 
 Study, who pleads a headache, rushes forward to 
 
MORALITIES. 227 
 
 the encounter, but is forthwith smitten down and 
 killed by the giant. Wit's mother, in the audience, 
 being " a very simplicity oman," can hardly keep 
 back her tears. But Tediousness, with a trium- 
 phant flourish of his mace, stalks off the stage, 
 and the buxom lass Honest Recreation, aided by 
 other kindly nurses, rubs and chafes the fallen hero 
 until he rises to his feet as well as ever. Reason 
 enters to rebuke Wit for his rashness. The fickle 
 young wooer, sulking at this, proposes to give over 
 the courtship of difficult Lady Science, and makes 
 love on the spot to Honest Recreation, who sets 
 him to dancing in test of his merit. Meanwhile 
 that disreputable slattern, Idleness, enters, lazily 
 taking seat upon the stage, and Wit, when he is 
 tired of dancing, flings himself down with his head 
 in her lap. Honest Recreation, poor girl, flies 
 furiously at Idleness, demanding her lover, and a 
 shrill-tongued quarrel ensues between these rival 
 sweethearts. Both appeal to Wit, Honest Recrea- 
 tion voicing an eloquent defence of athletics, but 
 the naughty boy chooses Idleness, and his whole- 
 some, red-cheeked hoyden departs in tears. Treach- 
 erous Idleness rocks Wit asleep in her lap, and then 
 whistles for the booby Ignorance, who comes in 
 "deckt lyke a very asse." If there was a Holo- 
 fernes in that assembly, doubtless he muttered 
 under his breath : " O thou monster Ignorance, how 
 
228 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 deformed dost thou look ! " And, in truth, Igno- 
 rance is such a superlative blockhead that the lad 
 who takes the part blushes behind his mask. 
 
 Then comes the most diverting spelling lesson 
 on record. 
 
 Idle?ies. Say thy lesson, foole. 
 Ingnorance. Upon my thummes? 
 
 Id. .Ye, upon thy thummes ; ys not there thy name ? 
 Ing. Yeas. 
 
 Id. Go to, than spell me that same. 
 Wher was thou borne ? 
 Ing. Chwas i-bore in Ingland, mother sed. 
 
 Id. In Ingland? 
 Ing. Yea. 
 
 Id. And what's half Ingland ? 
 
 Heeres ing and heeres land, whats tys? 
 Ing. Tys my thum ! 
 
 Id. Thy thum ? yng, horeson, ing, ing ! 
 Ing. Yng, yng, yng, yng. 
 
 Id. Say no, foole, say no. 
 
 Ing. Noo, noo, noo, noo, noo ! 
 
 Id. Go to, put together yng. 
 
 lag, Yng. 
 
 Id. No! 
 
 Ing. Noo. 
 
 Id. Forth now ! what sayth the dog? 
 
 Ing. Dog barke. 
 
 Id. Dog barke ? dog ran, horeson, dog ran ? 
 
 Ing. Dog ran, horson, dog ran, dog ran ! 
 

 MORALITIES. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Put together ing. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Yng. 
 
 Id. 
 
 No. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Noo. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Ran. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Ran. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Foorth now, what seyth the goose ? 
 
 Ing 
 
 Lag, lag. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Hys, horson, hys ! 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Hys, hys, s — s — s — s. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Go to, put together yng. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Id. 
 
 No. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Noo. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Ran. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Ran. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Hys. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Hys, s — s — s — s — s — s. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Now, who is a good boy? 
 
 Ing. 
 
 I, I, I, I, I, I- 
 
 Id. 
 
 Go to, put together ing. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Id. 
 
 No. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Noo. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Ran. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Ran. 
 
 Id. 
 
 His. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Hys — s, s, s, s, s. 
 
 Id. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 I. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Ing, no, ran, his, I. 
 
 Ing. 
 
 Ing, no, ran, hys — s — s— s. 
 
 229 
 
230 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Id. I. 
 
 Ing. I. 
 
 Id. Ing. 
 
 Ing. Ing. 
 
 /^/. Foorth. 
 
 Ing. Hys — s — s — s. 
 
 Id. Ye, no, horeson, no ! 
 
 Ing. Noo, noo, noo, noo. 
 
 Id. Ing, no. 
 
 Ing. Ing, noo. 
 
 Id. Forth now. 
 
 /«#■. Hys, s — s — s — s. 
 
 Id. Yet agayne ; ran, horeson, ran, ran. 
 
 Ing. Ran, horson, ran, ran. 
 
 Id. Ran say. 
 
 Ing. Ran say. 
 
 Id. Ran, horson. 
 
 /«£■. Ran, horeson. 
 
 Id. Ran. 
 
 ///£■. Ran. 
 
 Id. Ing, no, ran. 
 
 Ing. Ing, no, ran. 
 
 /</. Foorth, now, what sayd the goose ? 
 
 Ing. Dog barke. 
 
 Id. Dog barke ? Hys, horson, hys — s — s — s — s — s. 
 
 Ing. Hys — s — s — s — s — s — s. 
 
 Id. I. 
 
 Ing. Ing, — no, — ran, hys, I. 
 
 Id. How sayst, now, foole, is not there thy name ? 
 Ing. Yea. 
 
MORALITIES. 23 1 
 
 Id. Well than, can me that same. 
 
 What hast thow lernd ? 
 Ing. Ich can not tell. 
 
 As a reward for his exertions, Ignorance, bidden 
 by Idleness, puts on Wit's fine coat, sent by Science 
 to her recreant suitor, and helps Idleness slip his 
 own fool's dress on Wit. Then the precious pair 
 withdraw, leaving Wit, in his uncouth attire, sleep- 
 ing on the stage. Science enters with her goodly 
 train, Worship, Riches, Fame, and Favour. She is 
 chaperoned by her mother Experience. Wit awakes 
 and has the assurance to present himself to Science 
 as her "owne deere lover" and ask for a kiss, but 
 no one knows him disguised as he is in the ugly 
 hood, with its long ears, and shaggy coat of Igno- 
 rance. Flouted and forsaken, he beholds himself in 
 a mirror and realises his disgrace. Shame enters, 
 bearing in hand a familiar whip, at sight of which 
 the boys on the cross-beams curl up their legs, feeling 
 a retrospective sting. Wit begs off from his flogging, 
 meekly suffers the reproaches of Reason, submits 
 to the schooling of Instruction and goes forth, 
 this time fully equipped, to give battle once more 
 to Tediousness, whom he flatly overthrows, amidst 
 thunders of applause from the boys of the lower 
 forms, and brings back the gaint's head, or helmet, 
 upon his " sword of comfort" Lent him by Lady 
 Science. With responsive singing the bridal parties 
 
232 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 meet. Wit, now robed in the "gown of knowledge," 
 has won his fair lady, and to the mind of the young- 
 est urchin in the hall a glamour of romance and 
 chivalry will linger, henceforth and forever, about 
 even the hardest "questions in his accidence." 
 
 What is true of the Miracle Cycles, as regards 
 authorship, is scarcely less true of the original Moral- 
 ities, those cumbrous, large, religious Castclls of 
 Perseverance, and their like. They had no authors. 
 They grew, not precisely a la Topsy, but with equal 
 unconsciousness. They are as truly organic, in their 
 stratum, as the mediaeval epics, Beowulf, the Cid, 
 the Nibelungen Lied, are in theirs, or as the Gothic 
 cathedrals are in theirs. 
 
 It is a noteworthy fact that during the dreary 
 fifteenth century, that darkness between two dawns, 
 when England heard no clear individual voices in 
 her battle-troubled air, the warm, deep heart of the 
 people still sang on. It is our ballad century. And 
 what poetry could be spared from the ballads went 
 into Mysteries and Moralities. But these later Moral 
 Interludes yield no such reverberation. They are 
 plainly the handiwork of one dull rhymster or 
 another, and the significance, the sense of hoarded 
 life, is out of them. Yet the Moralities, blind to 
 the breaking of the bright dramatic day, held on 
 their antiquated path throughout the reign of Eliza- 
 beth. This path, however, tended more and more 
 
MORALITIES. 233 
 
 toward the new highway of the secular drama. We 
 have two Moralities, even before the Elizabethan 
 date, that in their self-conscious elaboration connect 
 themselves with this later development. They are 
 both the work of professional poets, — men of power, 
 too, although the diamond of genius is somewhat in 
 the rough. In Magnyfycence, the single survival left 
 to us of Skelton's four plays, the author's character- 
 istic wit and vivacity are smothered in the heavy 
 folds of the allegory, and even Lyndsay's Satyre of 
 the Thrie Estaitis, estimable as it is for its earnest 
 advocacy of reform in Church and state, is hardly 
 attractive reading. Both Moralities present the full 
 compass of human experience, though in different 
 fashion. Mankind is personified by Skelton as Mag- 
 nyfycence, the abstract name of Spenser's King 
 Arthur, and runs through the customary course, 
 passing from the control of the Virtues to that of 
 the Vices, suffering in consequence the blows of 
 Adversity and the visitation of Despair, and rescued 
 at last by such beneficent personages as Good Hope, 
 Sad Circumspection, and the inevitable Perseverance. 
 Lyndsay's dramatic satire is distinctly political, a 
 keen and insistent, if not melodious, voice of the 
 Scottish Reformation. King Humanity, after much 
 wavering between the Virtues and the Vices, gives 
 audience to the Three Estates and a Reform bill is 
 presented. 
 
234 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Of the extant Moralities belonging to the reign of 
 Elizabeth, some nine seem to have been acted, and, 
 in most cases, printed, during the boyhood of Shake- 
 speare. The earliest of these, making its title of the 
 discouraging proverb, The longer thou livest the more 
 Foole thou art, is a continuation of the Lusty Juveutus 
 type. The frivolous youth grows to old age in the 
 drama, however, and is not reclaimed at the end, but 
 carried off on Confusion's back to the Devil. Triall 
 of Treasure, another Moral Interlude with the note 
 of the Reformation sounding through it, belaboured 
 its hearers with a dramatic allegory enforcing the 
 lesson that worldly wealth is vanity. Inclination, 
 the Vice of this play, is bridled on the stage by 
 the " snaffle, called Restraint," the bridle having 
 come to be almost as distinctive a mark of the 
 Vice as the striped coat and wooden sword. In 
 Like wil to like quod the Devel to the Colier we 
 have a farce built up on allegorical foundation. 
 Among the alliterative rowdies whom the Vice, 
 Nichol Newfangle, draws to himself are Ralph 
 Roister, Tom Tosspot, Piers Pickpurse, and Cuth- 
 bert Cutpurse. The Collier, who is by no means 
 a leading character, enters with empty sacks from 
 a successful market-day, having sold his coals three 
 pecks to the bushel, and is presented by Nichol 
 Newfangle to the Devil. Then all three riotously 
 dance together, in fashion, says the stage direc- 
 
MORALITIES. 235 
 
 tion, "as evil favoured as may be devised," to the 
 chorus, — 
 
 " Tom Collier of Croydon hath sold his coals, 
 And made his market to-day ; 
 And now he danceth with the Devil, 
 For like will to like alway." 
 
 Such sober personages as Good Fame, Virtuous 
 Living, God's Promise and Honour strive to reform 
 this wild company, but without complete success. 
 Ralph Roister and Tom Tosspot, who have gotten 
 extremely drunk, repent in season, but Pickpurse 
 and Cutpurse are betrayed by Nichol Newfangle, 
 sentenced by Severity, and led off the stage by 
 Hankin Hangman, with halters about their necks. 
 Virtuous Life is crowned by Honour, and Nichol 
 Newfangle, mounting for "a journey to Spain " upon 
 the Devil's back, is carried down to hell. The Mar- 
 riage of Wit and Science exhibits a technical advance 
 in its division into acts and scenes, as well as in 
 versification and diction. It is a clever elaboration 
 of Redford's allegory already noticed. New Custome 
 is a polemical Interlude on the side of the Reforma- 
 tion, the Puritan Minister, Light of the Gospel, 
 converting at last the old Papish priest, Perverse 
 Doctrine. The Tyde taryeth no Man also bears the 
 Reformation impress, but is less of the controversial 
 temper. All for Money, by one Lupton, presents 
 
236 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 some surprising effects, which Ben Jonson did 
 not scruple to imitate in The Poetaster. Money, 
 taken suddenly ill, vomits Pleasure, who in turn 
 throws up Sin, the Vice, with his wooden dagger. 
 Sin, by the same remarkable process, brings to 
 light Damnation, a terrific figure, and Damnation 
 delivers up the shaggy form of Satan, horns and 
 hoofs and all. This dramatic method may be lack- 
 ing in delicacy, but the consequences of avarice 
 are certainly made graphic. The Marriage of Wit 
 and Wisdom appropriates much scrappy material 
 from its two predecessors on this theme, but intro- 
 duces various new characters, the vagabond sol- 
 diers, Snatch and Catch, old Mother Bee, with her 
 man Lob and her maid Doll, and others pointing 
 unmistakably in the direction of the new comedy. 
 The Three Ladies of London, whose names, by the 
 way, are Lucre, Love, and Conscience, was the 
 production of one R. W., and is technically almost 
 in the line of the contemporary secular drama. The 
 author holds to the allegorical framework, however, 
 although admitting a sprinkle of concrete characters, 
 and even so late as 1590 prints an elaborate varia- 
 tion upon his theme in The Three Lords and Three 
 Ladies of London. A comparison of the second 
 play with the first would be well worth while, as 
 showing what a London playwright of good ability, 
 with an unfortunate prejudice in favour of Moralities, 
 
MORALITIES. 237 
 
 was learning from the popular stage in those eventful 
 years from 1584 to 1590. The gain in versification 
 is in itself a testimony of the swift advance and 
 irresistible influence of the new dramatic movement. 
 The Contention between Liberality and Prodigality 
 was acted before Elizabeth toward the close of her 
 reign, and very likely added a share to her gather- 
 ing gloom of mind. But Thomas Nabbes lags most 
 conspicuously behind the times with Microcosm ns, 
 which appeared in 1637. 
 
 The progression toward the regular drama trace- 
 able through these transitional Moralities is mainly 
 in the line of a growing individuality of charac- 
 terisation, actual men and women finally appearing 
 side by side with the personified qualities. Progress 
 in dramatic structure is less marked, though apparent, 
 and with the theme remaining abstract, there can be 
 little gain in passion. 
 
 The first tentative comedies of the secular drama, 
 apart from the classic imitations, — such comedies as 
 Jack Juggler, Common Conditions, Tom Tiler and his 
 Wife, The Disobedient Child, and even Gammer 
 Qurtoris Needle, still retain Morality features, which 
 are no less apparent in the corresponding attempts 
 of the native drama at secular tragedy, as Bishop 
 Bale s Kynge Johan, The Nice Wanton, Cambises, 
 Apius and Virginia, and The Conflict of Conscience. 
 
 So the great religious drama of England dribbled 
 
238 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 out in these miserable hybrids, neither secular nor 
 sacred. But the classic spirit was at work, and 
 although in the end the classic stage became 
 tributary to the Gothic, not its supplanter, it 
 would enter into no compromise with the Vice 
 and his attendant puppets. Indeed, all these later 
 Moralities might well have known better than to 
 be, for Heywood's Interludes, genuine farces that 
 they were, had been published in 1532; Ralph 
 Roister Doister, clear, secular comedy of the Latin 
 type, had been played before 1 55 1, and Gorboduc, 
 true secular tragedy in blank verse, though heavy 
 as lead, by the following year. But life was too 
 rapid in that marvellous second half of the six- 
 teenth century for every man to note carefully 
 what his neighbours had done and were doing, 
 and so we find, under Elizabeth, all the earlier 
 dramatic varieties existing side by side with that 
 Shakespearian stage of which England had hardly 
 become aware. For centuries the Miracle Plays had 
 been preparing the ground, but the Elizabethan 
 Drama itself, under the brilliant sunshine of the 
 Renascence, sprang into so swift and beautiful a 
 blossom that it had already filled the air with its 
 first fresh sweetness before the Elizabethans them- 
 selves, even the professed critics of poetry, as 
 Webbe and Puttenham, even the poets of the court, 
 as Sidney and Spenser, were well awake to its ex- 
 
MORALITIES. 239 
 
 istence. Thus we find Miracle Plays, Morality 
 Plays, and Semi-Morality Plays, all three which in 
 dramatic development logically precede the Shake- 
 spearian stage, blindly and stupidly pressing on 
 alongside and even overlapping it. It is a rare 
 grace to know when to stop. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 OUTLINE AND REFERENCES. 
 
 Books of General Reference. 
 
 Ward, A. W. History of English Dramatic Literature to the 
 Death of Queen Anne. 
 
 Collier, J. P. History of English Dramatic Poetry to the Time 
 of Shakespeare, and Annals of the Stage to the Restoration. 
 
 Morley, Henry. English Writers. 
 
 Symonds, J. A. Shakespeare's Predecessors in the English 
 Drama. 
 
 Jusserand, J.J. Le Theatre en Angleterre. 
 
 Sepet, M. Le Drame Chretien au Moyen Age. 
 
 Klein, J. L. Geschichte des Dramas. Vols. XII.-XIII. 
 
 Hase, Karl. Das geistliche Schauspiel des Mittelalters. (Trans- 
 lation by A. W. Jackson.) 
 
 Ulrici, Hermann. Shakespeare's dramatische Kunst. (Trans- 
 lation in Bonn's Standard Library.) 
 
 Reidt, Heinrich. Das geistliche Schauspiel des Mittelalters. 
 
 Ebert, Adolf. Jahrbuch fLir romanische und englische Litteratur. 
 Vol. I. 
 
 Ten Brink, Bernhard. Geschichte der englischen Litteratur. 
 Vol. II. (Translation by William Clarke Robinson, Ph. D.) 
 
 Warton, Thomas. History of English Poetry. 
 
 Hone, William. Ancient Mysteries Described. \ 
 
 Rymer, Thomas. Short View of Tragedy of the Last Age. 
 
 240 
 
APPENDIX. 241 
 
 Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Inter- 
 ludes. (Introduction and Notes.) 
 
 Stoddard, F. H. References for Students of Miracle Plays and 
 Mysteries. (Univ. of California. Library Bulletin, No. 8.) 
 
 A. Latin Passion Plays and Saint Plays. 
 
 See 
 
 Wright, Thomas. Early Mysteries and Latin Poems of the 
 Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries. 
 
 Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Inter- 
 ludes. Appendix. 
 
 Coussemaker, E. de. Drames Liturgiques du Moyen Age. 
 
 Du Meril, E. Origines latines du Theatre moderne. 
 
 Froning, R. Das Drama des Mittelalters. Erster Teil. Die 
 lateinischen Osterfeiern and ihre Entwickelung in Deutsch- 
 land. Osterspiele. Passionspiele. (Union Deutsche Ver- 
 lagsgesellschaft.) 
 
 B. English Miracle Plays known to be Extant. 
 
 I. Cycles. 
 
 a. York Plays. (B = Beverley.) 
 
 (MS. of date 1430-1440; in possession of the Earl of 
 Ashburnham.) 
 1-6. Creation. Fall of Lucifer. Adam and Eve. Garden 
 of Eden. Man's Disobedience and Fall. (B. Five 
 plays.) 
 7. Sacrificium Cayne et Abell. (B.) 
 8-9. Building of the Ark. Noah and his Wife and the 
 Flood. (B.) 
 
 10. Abraham's Sacrifice. (B.) 
 
 11. Departure of Israelites from Egypt. The Ten Plagues 
 
 and Passage of Red Sea. 
 
242 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 12. Prologue of Prophets. Annunciation and Visit to Eliza- 
 
 beth. (B.) 
 
 13. Joseph's Trouble about Mary. 
 
 14. Journey to Jerusalem. Birth of Jesus. (B.) 
 
 15. The Angels and Shepherds. (B.) 
 
 16-17. Coming of the Three Kings to Herod. Adoration. (B.) 
 
 18. Flight into Egypt. (B.) 
 
 19. Massacre of the Innocents. (B.) 
 
 20. Christ with the Doctors in the Temple. (B.) 
 
 21. Baptism of Jesus. (B.) 
 
 22. The Temptation. (B.) 
 
 23. The Transfiguration. 
 
 24. Woman taken in Adultery. Lazarus. (B.) 
 
 25. Entry into Jerusalem. (B.) The Blind. The Lame. 
 
 Zaccheus. 
 
 26. Conspiracy to take Jesus. 
 
 27. The Last Supper. (B.) 
 
 28. The Agony and Betrayal. (B.) 
 
 29. Peter's Denial. Jesus before Caiphas. (B.) 
 
 30. Dream of Pilate's Wife. (B.) 
 
 31-33. Trials before Herod (B.) and Pilate (B.). Remorse of 
 Judas. 
 
 34. Christ led up to Calvary. 
 
 35. Crucifixion. 
 
 36. Mortificatio. (B.) Burial of Jesus. 
 27- Harrowing of Hell. (B.) 
 
 38. Resurrection. (B.) The Three Marys. 
 
 39. Christ appears to Mary Magdalene. 
 
 40. Travellers to Emmaus. (B.) 
 
 41. Purification. (B.) 
 
 42. Incredulity of Thomas. 
 
 43. Ascension. (B.) 
 
 44. Descent of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 45. Death of Mary. 
 
 46. Appearance of Mary to Thomas. 
 
APPENDIX. 243 
 
 47. Assumption and Coronation (B.) of Virgin. 
 
 48. The Judgment Day. (B.) 
 
 Note. — The Beverley series was originally a cycle of 36 plays, closely 
 correspondent to the York cycle. Titles only are extant. 
 
 See 
 Smith, Lucy Toulmin. York Plays. 1885. Full Cycle. 
 Collier, J. P. Camden Miscellany. Vol. IV. 1859. 
 
 Play Forty-second. Incredulity of St. Thomas. 
 Croft, J. Excerpta Antiqua. 1797. 
 
 Play Forty-second. Incredulity of St. Thomas. 
 Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Inter- 
 ludes. 
 
 Play First : The Creation and the Fall of Lucifer. 
 
 See also 
 Anglia X. '87-'88. 
 
 Die Quellen der York Spiele. 
 
 (Leipziger Dissertation. 1887. P. Kamann.) 
 Anglia XI. "ZZ-'Z^, 
 
 Die Altenglischen Kollektivmisterien. 
 
 Unter besonderer Beriicksichtigung des Verhaltnisses der 
 York und Towneley Spiele. Alex. Holdfeld. 
 Herltrich, O. Studien zu den York Plays. Breslau. 1886. 
 
 (Dissertation.) 
 See for parallel reading 
 Cursor Mundi. Edited by Richard Morris. 1874. (E. E. 
 
 T. S.) 
 
 b. Towneley Plays. 
 
 (Also known as Widkirk, Woodkirk, Wakefield. MS. 
 of fifteenth century, in possession of B. Quaritch, 15 
 Piccadilly, London.) 
 
 1. Creatio. 
 
 2. Mactatio Abel. 
 
 3. Processus Noe cum Filiis. 
 
 4. Abraham. 
 
244 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 5- 
 
 Isaac. 
 
 6. 
 
 Jacob. 
 
 7- 
 
 Processus Prophetarum. 
 
 8. 
 
 Pharao. 
 
 9 
 
 Caesar Augustus. 
 
 IO. 
 
 Annunciatio. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Salutacio Elizabeth. 
 
 12. 
 
 Prima Pagina Pastorum. 
 
 13- 
 
 Secunda Pagina Pastorum. 
 
 14. 
 
 Oblacio Magorum. 
 
 IS- 
 
 Fugacio in yEgyptum. 
 
 16. 
 
 Magnus Herodus. 
 
 17- 
 
 Purificacio Marias. 
 
 18. 
 
 Pagina Doctorum. 
 
 19. 
 
 Johannes Babtista. 
 
 20. 
 
 Conspiracio et Capcio. 
 
 21. 
 
 Coliphizatio. 
 
 22. 
 
 Flagellacio. 
 
 23- 
 
 Processus Crucis. Cruciflxio. 
 
 24. 
 
 Processus Talentorum. 
 
 25. 
 
 Extractio Animarum ab Inferno. 
 
 26. 
 
 Resurrectio Domini. 
 
 27. 
 
 Peregrini. 
 
 28. 
 
 Thomas Indiae. 
 
 29. 
 
 Ascencio Domini. 
 
 30- 
 
 Juditium. 
 
 3i- 
 
 Lazarus. 
 
 32. 
 
 Suspentio Judas. 
 
 See 
 
 
 'Stevenson, J. S. Towneley Mysteries. Edited for tl 
 
 tees Society. 1836. Full Cycle. 
 
 v Marriott, William. Collection of English Miracle Plays. 
 
 Play Eighth. Pharao. 
 
 Play Thirteenth. Pastores. 
 
 Play Twenty-third. Cruciflxio. 
 
 Sur- 
 1838. 
 
APPENDIX. 245 
 
 Play Twenty-fifth. Extractio Animarum ab Inferno. 
 Play Thirtieth. Juditium. 
 
 Collier, J. P. Five Miracle Plays or Scriptural Dramas. 1836. 
 Play Thirteenth. Secunda Pagina Pastorum. 
 
 Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and In- 
 terludes. 
 Play Thirteenth. Secunda Pastorum (abridged). 
 
 Douce, F. Roxburghe Club Publications. No. 16. 
 Play Thirtieth. Juditium. 
 
 Note. — A new edition of the Towneley Plays, greatly needed, will 
 shortly be issued by the Early English Text Society. 
 
 c. Chester Plays. 
 
 (Five MSS. of dates 1 591-1607, three in British 
 Museum, one in Bodleian, one in possession of the 
 Duke of Devonshire.) 
 Banes or Prologue. 
 ? 1 . The Fall of Lucifer. 
 
 2. The Creation and Fall, and Death of Abel. 
 
 3. Noah's Flood. 
 
 4. The Histories of Lot and Abraham. 
 
 5. Balaam and his Ass. 
 
 6. The Salutation and Nativity (with prophecies from 
 
 Octavian and the Sibyl). 
 
 7. The Play of the Shepherds. 
 
 8. The Three Kings come to Herod. 
 
 9. Offering of the Three Kings. 
 
 10. Slaughter of the Innocents. 
 
 11. The Purification. 
 
 12. The Temptation, and the Woman taken in Adultery. 
 
 13. (Cure of the Blind Man.) Lazarus. 
 
 14. Christ's Entry into Jerusalem. 
 
 15. Christ's Betrayal. 
 
 16. The Passion. 
 
 17. The Crucifixion. 
 
246 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 18. The Harrowing of Hell. 
 
 19. The Resurrection (and the Three Marys). 
 
 20. The Pilgrims of Emaus. 
 
 21. The Ascension. 
 
 22. The Emission of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 23. Ezechiel (Prophesies of the End of the World and Fif- 
 
 teen Signs of Doom). 
 
 24. Antichrist. 
 
 25. Doomsday. 
 See 
 
 Wright, Thomas. Chester Mysteries. Edited for the Shake- 
 speare Society. 1843-1847. Full Cycle. 
 Deimling, Hermann. The Chester Plays. Part I. 1892. 
 
 (Part II. in preparation.) Full Cycle. E. E. T. S. 
 Markland, J. H. Roxburghe Club Publications. No. 11. 1818. 
 
 Banes or Prologue. 
 
 Play Third. De Deluvio Noe. 
 
 Play Tenth. De Occisione Innocentium. 
 /Marriott, William. Collection of English Miracle Plays. 1838. 
 
 Play Third. The Deluge. 
 
 Play Twenty-fourth. Antichrist. 
 Collier, J. P. Five Miracle Plays or Scriptural Dramas. 1836. 
 
 Play Twenty-fourth. Antichrist. 
 \ Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Interludes. 
 
 Play Third. Noah's Flood. 
 
 Play Fourth. (Portion) The Sacrifice of Isaac. 
 
 d. Coventry Plays. 
 
 (MS. of date 1534, burned in 1879 at Birmingham.) 
 Prologue. 
 
 1 . Creation. 
 
 2. Fall of Man. 
 
 3. Cain and Abel. 
 
 4. Noah's Flood. (Lamack kills Cain.) 
 
 5. Abraham's Sacrifice. 
 
APPENDIX. 247 
 
 6. Moses and the Two Tables. 
 
 7. The Prophets. 
 
 8. The Barrenness of Anna. 
 
 9. Mary in the Temple. 
 10. Mary's Betrothment. 
 
 n. The Salutation and Conception. 
 
 12. Joseph's Return. 
 
 13. The Visit to Elizabeth. 
 
 14. The Trial of Joseph and Mary. 
 
 15. Birth of Christ. 
 
 16. Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 17. Adoration of the Magi. 
 
 18. The Purification. 
 
 19. Slaughter of the Innocents. 
 
 20. Christ disputing in the Temple. 
 
 21. The Baptism of Christ. 
 
 22. The Temptation. 
 
 23. The Woman taken in Adultery. 
 
 24. Lazarus. 
 
 25. The Council of the Jews. 
 
 26. Entry into Jerusalem. 
 
 27. The Last Supper. 
 
 28. Betraying of Christ. 
 
 29. King Herod. 
 
 30. Trial of Christ. 
 
 31. Pilate's Wife's Dream. 
 
 32. Condemnation and Crucifixion of Christ. 
 
 33. The Descent into Hell. 
 
 34. Burial of Christ. 
 
 35. Resurrection (and part of Descent). 
 
 36. The Three Marys. 
 
 37. Christ appearing to Mary. 
 
 38. Pilgrim of Emaus (and Incredulity of Thomas). 
 
 39. Ascension. 
 
 40. Descent of the Holy Ghost. 
 
248 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 41. Assumption of the Virgin. 
 
 42. Domesday. 
 See 
 
 Halliwell, J. O. Ludus Coventriae. Edited for the Shakespeare 
 
 Society. 1841. Full Cycle. 
 Marriott, William. Collection of English Miracle Plays. 1838. 
 
 Play Twelfth. Joseph's Jealousy. 
 
 Play Fourteenth. The Trial of Mary and Joseph. 
 Collier, J. P. Five Miracle Plays or Scriptural Dramas. 1836. 
 
 Play Tenth. Marriage of the Virgin. 
 1 Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Inter- 
 ludes. * 
 
 Play Eleventh. The Salutation and Conception. 
 
 See also 
 Sharp, Thomas. Dissertation on the Pageants or Dramatic 
 
 Mysteries anciently performed at Coventry. 1825. 
 
 NOTE. — Sharp has printed privately the Coventry guild pageant of the 
 Shearmen and Taylors, viz., The Nativity, and for the Abbotsford Club the 
 guild pageant of the Weavers, viz., The Presentation in the Temple and 
 Disputation with the Doctors. 
 
 e. Cornwall Plays. 
 
 (MS. of 14th Century in Cornish, in possession of 
 Bodleian Library.) 
 
 1. Origo Mundi. 
 
 2. Passio Domini Nostri. 
 
 3. Resurrexio Domini Nostri. 
 See 
 
 Norris, Edwin. Origo Mundi; Passio Domini Nostri: Resur- 
 rexio Domini Nostri. Ancient Cornish Drama ; edited and 
 translated. 1859. 
 See for parallel reading 
 
 Stokes, Whitley. The Passion. Philological Society Transac- 
 tions. 1860-61. Appendix. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 249 
 
 /. Dublin Plays. 
 
 (Date of MS. 1420-1450, Trinity College, Dublin.) 
 Abraham and Isaac. 
 See 
 Collier, J. P. Five Miracle Plays or Scriptural Dramas. 1836. 
 
 g. Plays of Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
 
 (MS. at Newcastle.) 
 Noah's Ark. 
 See 
 Sharp, Thomas. Dissertation on the Pageants or Dramatic 
 Mysteries anciently performed at Coventry. 1825. 
 
 NOTE. — This play is also printed in two histories of Newcastle, one by 
 Henry Bourne, 1736, the other by John Brand, 1789. 
 
 II. Isolated Plays. 
 
 a. Norfolk. 
 
 (MS. of fifteenth century at Brome Hall, Suffolk 
 County.) 
 
 1. Abraham and Isaac. 
 See 
 
 Rye, Walter. Norfolk Antiquarian Miscellany. Vol. III., Part I. 
 Smith, Lucy Toulmin. The Book of Brome. 
 Smith, Lucy Toulmin. Anglia. VII. 
 
 Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Inter- 
 ludes. Appendix. 
 
 2. The Play of the Sacrament. 
 
 (MS. of date about 1461. Trinity College, Dublin.) 
 See 
 Stokes, Whitley. Philological Society Transactions. 1860-61. 
 Appendix. 
 
 b. Norwich. 
 
 (Two MSS. 1534 and 1565, in possession of Robert 
 Fitch, Norwich.) 
 
250 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 i . The Story of the Creacon of Eve, with the Expyllng of 
 
 Adam and Eve out of Paradyce. The Grocers' Play. 
 NOTE. — This play was privately printed by Robert Fitch in 1856. See 
 also Norfolk and Norwich Archaeological Society Proceedings. Vol. III. 
 
 C. DlGBY. 
 
 (Digby MS. of late fifteenth century, Bodleian Library.) 
 
 1. The Killing of the Children. 
 
 2. Conversion of Saint Paul. 
 
 3. Mary Magdalene. 
 
 (MS. of early sixteenth century, Bodleian Library.) 
 
 4. Burial and Resurrection of Christ. 
 See 
 
 Furnivall, F. J. Digby Mysteries. Edited for the New Shak- 
 spere Society. 1882. 
 
 Sharp, Thomas. Ancient Mysteries from the Digby Manu- 
 scripts. 1835. 
 The Killing of the Children. 
 Conversion of Saint Paul. 
 Mary Magdalene. 
 
 Hawkins, Thomas. Origin of the English Drama. 1773. 
 The Killing of the Children : Parfre's Candlemas Day. 
 
 Marriott, William. A Collection of English Miracle Plays. 
 The Killing of the Children of Israel, or Candlemas Day. 
 
 Pollard, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Inter- 
 ludes. 
 Mary Magdalene. (Portion.) 
 
 Halliwell, J. O. Reliquiae Antiquae. 1843. 
 Christ's Burial and Resurrection. 
 See also 
 
 Schmidt, K. Die Digby-Spiele. 1884. Berlin. (Dissertation.) 
 
 d. Cornish. 
 
 (MS. of date 161 1 in Cornish, Bodleian Library.) 
 1 . The Creation of the World, with Noah's Flood. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 251 
 
 (MS. of date 1504 in Cornish, in possession of Sir 
 Watkins Williams Winn, Hengwyrt Collection, Peni- 
 arth, Wales.) 
 2. Life of Saint Meriasek. 
 See 
 Gilbert, Davies. The Creation of the World, with Noah's Flood. 
 Edited 1827. (With English translation by John Keigwin.) 
 Stokes. Whitley. Life of Saint Meriasek. Edited and trans- 
 lated 1872. 
 
 Note. — With the foregoing should be compared the dramatic poem, 
 Harrowing of Hell, printed by Collier in his Five Miracle Plays and pri- 
 vately printed by Halliwell. Of the Protestant Mysteries of Bishop Bale 
 (1495-1563) four are extant. The Three Laws of Nature, Moses and Christ 
 remains in manuscript. God's Promises is printed in the first volume of 
 Dodsley's Old Plays, and by Marriott in his collection of English Miracle 
 Plays. The Temptacyon of Our Lord has been edited by Grosart among 
 the Miscellanies of the Fuller Worthies' Library, Vol. I., and the Johan 
 Baptystes preachynge in the Wildemesse is printed in the first volume of the 
 Harleian Miscellany. There exist a few other Biblical dramas, late and 
 inferior, as Jacob and Esau, Pharaoh's Daughter, Joseph and his Brothers, 
 but these have no place in a consideration of genuine Miracle Plays. See 
 also Stephen's Dictionary of National Biography for account of a Latin 
 Miracle by John Foxe the Martyrologist. 
 
 Summary of English Miracle Plays. 
 
 Cycles. 
 London. \ 
 
 Worcester. \ Plays entirely lost. 
 Beverley. J 
 
 Original Number. Extant. 
 
 York 48 48 
 
 Towneley 32 32 
 
 Chester 25 25 
 
 Coventry 42 42 
 
 Cornwall 3 3 
 
 Dublin 14 1 
 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne 16 1 
 
 152 
 
252 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Isolated Plays. 
 
 Extant. 
 Norfolk 2 
 
 Norwich I 
 
 Digby 4 
 
 Cornish 2 
 
 Total of Extant Plays 161 
 
 C. English Moralities. 
 
 I. Full Scope Moralities. (Fifteenth Century.) 
 The Macro Moralities. 
 
 The Castell of Perseverance. 
 
 Mind, Will, and Understanding. 
 
 Mankind. 
 Mundus et Infans. 
 The Pride of Life. (Fragment.) 
 Everyman. 
 Nature. By Henry Medwall. 
 
 II. Limited Moralities. 
 
 a. Dealing with Temptations of Youth. 
 
 Hycke-Scorner. Printed about 1530. 
 
 Lusty Juventus. 1547—1 553. 
 
 The Interlude of Youth. 1553— 1558. 
 
 b. Written in Praise of Learning. 
 
 The Nature of the Four Elements. 15 10-1520. 
 Wyt and Science. By Jhon Redford. About 1545. 
 
 III. Transitional Moralities. 
 
 a. Written by Professional Poets. 
 
 Magnyfycence. By John Skelton. 1515-1523. 
 Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis. By Sir David Lyndsay. 
 1535-1540. 
 
APPENDIX. 253 
 
 b. Appeared in Shakespeare's Boyhood. 
 
 The longer Thou livest the more Foole Thou art. By W. 
 
 Wager. Early Elizabethan. 
 Triall of Treasure. Printed 1567. (Two editions.) 
 Like wil to like quod the Devel to the Colier. By Ulpian Fuhvel. 
 
 Printed 1568. 
 The Marriage of Witte and Science. (Adapted from Redford's 
 
 Wyt and Science.) Licensed 1 569-1 570. 
 New Custome. Printed 1573. 
 
 The Tyde taryeth no Man. By George Wapull. Printed 1576. 
 All for Money. By T. Lupton. Printed 1578. 
 The Marriage between Witt and Wisdome. 1579. 
 The Three Ladies of London. 1584. 
 
 c. Belated. 
 The Three Lords and Three Ladies of London. 1590. 
 The Contention between Liberality and Prodigality. 1602. 
 Microcosmus. By Thomas Nabbes. 1637. 
 
 NOTE. — Portions of The Castell of Perseverance are printed in Pol- 
 lard's English Miracle Plays. A portion of Mind, Will and Understanding, 
 under title of A Morality of Wisdom Who is Christ, is printed in Furni- 
 vall's Digby Mysteries. The Macro Moralities are soon to be edited by 
 Pollard for the E. E. T. S. Mundus et Infins was printed by Wynkyn 
 de Worde, 1522, a reprint being issued by the Roxburghe Club in 1817. 
 This Morality is easily accessible in the twelfth volume of Dodsley's Old 
 Plays. Everyman was printed four times early in the sixteenth century, 
 twice by Richard Pynson and twice by John Skot. It is accessible in the 
 first volume of Hawkins' Origin of the English Drama, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, 
 Vol. I., and, in abridged form, in Pollard's English Miracle Plays. Nature 
 survives in printed form, but without date or printer's name. Of the later 
 Moralities, Hycke-Scomer is accessible in Hawkins' Origin of the English 
 Drama, Vol. I., and in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. I.; Lusty Juventus, in Haw- 
 kins' Origin of the English Drama, Vol. I., and in Dodsley's Old Plays, 
 Vol. II. ; The Interhide of Youth, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. II. ; The Nature 
 of the Four Elements, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. I., in Percy Society Publi- 
 cations, Vol. XXIII., and in Pollard's Miracle Plays; Wyt and Science, in 
 the Shakespeare Society Publications for 1848 (edited by Halliwell) ; Mag- 
 nyfycence, in Dyce's edition of Skelton's Poetical Works; Ane Satyre of the 
 
254 THE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 
 
 Thrie Estaitis, in Laing's edition of Lyndsay's Poetical Works ; Triall of 
 Treasure, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. III., and in Percy Society Publications, 
 Vol. XXVIII. (edited by Halliwell) ; Like wil to Like, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, 
 Vol. III.; The Marriage of Witte and Science, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. 
 II.; New Custome, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. III.; The Tyde Taryeth no 
 Man, in Collier's Illustrations of Early English Literature, 1863, Vol. II. ; 
 The Marriage between Witt and Wisdome, in the Shakespeare Society Pub- 
 lications for 1846; The Three Ladies of London and The Three Lords and 
 Three Ladies of London, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. VI.; The Contention 
 between Liberality and Prodigality, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. VIII.; and 
 Microcosmus, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. IX. See also Shakespeare Society 
 Publications, 1844, for Albyon Knight, fragment of a political Morality. 
 
 IV. Early Comedies with Morality Features. 
 
 e.g., Jack Juggler. About 1560. 
 
 The Disobedient Child. By Th. Ingelend. Printed in 
 
 1560. 
 Common Conditions. About 1570. 
 Gammer Gurton's Needle. Perhaps by John Still. Be- 
 fore 1575. 
 Tom Tiler and his Wife. 1578. 
 
 V. Early Tragedies with Morality Features. 
 e.g., Bishop Bale's Kynge Johan. About 1550. 
 
 The Nice Wanton. 1560. 
 Cambises. About 1561. 
 Apius and Virginia. About 1563. 
 The Conflict of Conscience. 1581. 
 
 NOTE. — Of these later plays, Jack Juggler is printed in Hazlitt's 
 Dodsley, Vol. II., and in Child's Four Old Plays ; The Disobedient Child, in 
 Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. II., and in Percy Society Publications, Vol. XXIII. ; 
 Gammer Gurton's Needle, in Dodsley's Old Plays, Vol. II., in Hazlitt's 
 Dodsley, Vol. III., in The Ancient British Drama, Vol. I., and in Haw- 
 kins' Origin of the English Drama ; Bale's Kynge Johan, in the Camden 
 Society's Publications, 1838, and Pollard's English Miracle Plays; The 
 Nice Wanton, in Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. II. ; Cambises, in Hawkins' Origin 
 of the English Drama, Vol. I., and Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. IV.; Apius and 
 Virginia, in Dodsley's Old Plays, Vol. XII.; The Conflict of Conscience, in 
 the Roxburghe Club Publications for 1851, and Hazlitt's Dodsley, Vol. VI. 
 
ENGLISH MIRACLE PLAYS. 
 
 MORALITIES AND INTERLUDES. Specimens of the pre- 
 Elizabethan Drama. Edited, with an introduction, notes, 
 and glossary, by A. W. Pollard. i2mo, $1.90. 
 
 Another publication of the year is of more enduring value and instructiveness. 
 It is an excellently chosen body of selections, some of them of considerable length, 
 representing English Miracle Plays, Moralities, and I?iterhides. The editor, 
 A. W. Pollard, has equipped his text with all needed helps in the way of historical 
 introductions, notes, and glossary; and this single volume, for most readers, may 
 well take the place of several other expensive or not readily accessible treatises and 
 collections. The student of Elizabethan literature can hardly afford to forget that 
 the miracle play and mystery developed into the morality, and the morality into the 
 five-act drama of real life ; while the investigator of social history finds an interesting 
 theme in the former close relation — in England as well as in Spain — between the 
 Church and the University on the one hand, and the play on the other. — Sunday- 
 School Times. 
 
 YORK PLAYS. The Plays performed by the Crafts or Mysteries 
 of York, on the day of Corpus Christi, in the 14th, 15th, 
 and 16th Centuries. Now just printed from the unique manu- 
 script in the library of Lord Ashburnham. Edited, with intro- 
 duction and glossary, by Lucy Toulmin Smith. 8vo, $5.25. 
 
 It would be difficult to overestimate the importance of Miss Lucy Toulmin 
 Smith's contribution to English literature. The study of the sources of the modern 
 drama has always been most interesting to scholars, but they have been greatly ham- 
 pered in their work by the difficulty of obtaining even the manuscripts of the old 
 plays. That such a collection as the York plays existed has been known since the 
 publication of Thoresby's " History of Seeds," and, as Miss Toulmin Smith says in 
 her excellent introduction, it is not a little remarkable that they have never before 
 seen the light. In her volume, at last, we have a most scholarly edition of them, 
 with an introduction that gives a complete description of the manuscript, with its 
 pedigree and approximate date, a sketch of the various crafts engaged in the produc- 
 tion of the plays, and many valuable notes on the verse, language, music, and an 
 analysis of the metres. There are three appendices that give a comparative table of 
 English cycles of religious plays, a list of places and plays in Great Britain, and 
 notes on the dialect and grammar : there is an index to the introduction with a full 
 explanation of the names of the crafts, and a complete glossary. The manuscript 
 music is given with a description and explanation by William H. Cummings, F.S.A. 
 
 OLD ENGLISH DRAMA. Marlowe's Dr. Faustus. Greene's 
 
 Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay. By A. W. Ward. Third 
 
 edition revised and enlarged. i6mo, $1.60. 
 
 Mr. Ward has given us a most complete edition of two plays, which have won for 
 
 themselves the greatest interest on the part of English scholars. In the introduction, 
 
 while showing very clearly the internal connexion between the two plays, he traces 
 
 their sources through the various legends of the dark ages, until in the Faustbuch 
 
 and early German puppet-plays he finds the story carefully elaborated. He gives 
 
 long extracts from the Faustbuch, and from the history of Friar Bacon and Friar 
 
 Bungay in " The Elizabethan Story-book." He attempts to date both plays, and at 
 
 the end of the volume he gives a careful and complete series of critical notes. 
 
 A History of English Dramatic Literature to the Death of Queen 
 Anne. By A. W. Ward. 2 vols., 8vo. New edition in press. 
 
 MACMILLAN &. CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 
THE HISTORY OF EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE. 
 
 Being the History of English Poetry from its Beginnings 
 to the Accession of King Alfred. 
 
 By STOPFORD A. BROOKE. i2mo, $2.50. 
 
 The " History of Early English Literature," by Stopford A. Brooke, has been 
 promised for some time, but a work of so much and so careful research is not done in 
 a day, and it is always well that enough time be taken for a work of this sort. The 
 " History of Early English Literature " is practically a history of English poetry, 
 since the early literature so largely was poetry; and there is a field of exploration 
 here which is of the highest interest and richness. The examination which the sub- 
 ject receives at the hand of Mr. Brooke is admirably faithful and exhaustive. He 
 has brought to the task a ripe scholarship, a rare intelligence, and a good taste which 
 is by no means the least of the requirements for such an undertaking. He has 
 translated the early English verse with wonderful success in the face of the great 
 difficulties of rendering into modern English anything which should convey an 
 impression at all adequate of the originals. There are abundant evidences here of 
 no inconsiderable poetic power on the part of Mr. Brooke, and the history of English 
 song is here told so well that this book is in its field final. It is a permanent and 
 most valuable contribution to literature. — Boston Courier. 
 
 Mr. Stopford A. Brooke's "History of Early English Literature" embodies the 
 fullest treatment that has yet been given this subject in any work of popular char- 
 acter. . . . The author presents his method of translation with quite unnecessary 
 diffidence; it is, in its results, the most satisfactory with which we are acquainted. 
 In fact, no other book exists in English from which a reader unacquainted with 
 Anglo-Saxon may gain so vivid a sense of the literary quality of our earliest poetry. 
 In other reports, also, the book is clearly superior to its predecessors in the same 
 field. As no other history, it keeps constantly before the mind the essential unity of 
 all English literature. . . . His broad culture, moreover, and his wide acquaintance 
 with the best things in other literatures than the English, have enabled him to illumi- 
 nate his history with those side-lights of comparison and quotation which bring a 
 special period into relations with the universal literary spirit. — The Dial. 
 
 In this volume we have a critical review of English poetry from its beginning to 
 the accession of King Alfred. . . . There is a brilliancy and beauty and force about 
 Mr. Brooke's writings which give a marvellous charm to the subjects he handles. 
 This work is no exception to the rule. English literature in our author's hands 
 reads like a veritable romance, yet has the great advantage to the reader of supply- 
 ing him with stores of useful learning of the most helpful kind. We recommend 
 this volume as the able production of a scholar who is master of his subject. — New 
 York Observer. 
 
 The author of this handsome volume has made a welcome and important contribu- 
 tion to that series of books about the beginning of English literature which modern 
 research has so multiplied during the last generation. ... It is possible in this his- 
 tory to follow the development of the English poetic art intelligently and with sym- 
 pathy; to perceive the nature of the influences which moulded it; to trace the 
 bearings upon it of those changes and cataclysms which, for a time, and not once 
 only, threatened to silence the muses altogether in those British Isles, and to replunge 
 the land into intellectual darkness. Mr. Brooke has treated his prolific subject with 
 great care and fulness, and has, so far as can be perceived, omitted no source of infor- 
 mation. His history is a compact, yet not in any sense abridged account of growths 
 and changes which took many centuries for their accomplishment. . . . Mr. Brooke 
 has dealt very clearly and well with the salient points of his somewhat tangled his- 
 tory. Everything is made subsidiary to the main subject, which is the genesis and 
 the development of English literature. The book is written in a clear and often cap- 
 tivating style; it is thoroughly sober, and moderate in all its claims and estimates, 
 and it deserves to be considered as a thoroughly scholarly, conscientious, and valu- 
 able work. — N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 
HELPS TO THE STUDY OF CHAUCER. 
 
 CHAUCER'S Poetical Works. Edited with Memoir and Introduc- 
 tions, by Dr. R. Morris. 6 vols. 75 cents each. Aldine edition. 
 CHAUCER. Canterbury Tales. A new edition in two volumes, by 
 
 Alfred W. Pollard, M.A. In preparation. 
 CHAUCER. Canterbury Tales. Annotated and Accented. With 
 illustrations of English life in Chaucer's time. By John Saun- 
 ders. With illustrations from the Ellesmere MS. i2mo. $1.60. 
 Whoever would taste his [Chaucer's] delicious flavour must master his dialect. 
 One of the most promising of recent attempts to induce readers to take this trouble 
 is Mr. Saunders' " Canterbury Tales." Beyond the introduction of a uniform stand- 
 ard of spelling and the use of marks of accentuation, there appears to be no altera- 
 tion of the text. — The Dial. 
 
 The Prologue. The Knightes Tale. The Nonne Preestes Tale. 
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 rections and additions by Professor Skeat are, wherever I have compared these two 
 editions, very much to the point." 
 
 School Edition of the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. 
 
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 The Tale of the Man of Lawe. The Pardoneres Tale. The 
 
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 Often as the " Legend of Good Women " has been printed, it has never been 
 edited until now. . . . Professor Skeat's edition of the "Minor Poems" and the 
 " Legend " form together a considerable instalment of the long-desired critical edition 
 of Chaucer's poetry. — London Athenceum. 
 
 The House of Fame. Edited by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat. 
 
 Clarendon Press Series. i6mo. $1.10. 
 The Minor Poems. Edited by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat, 
 
 Litt.D. i2mo. $2.60. 
 
 Professor Skeat has brought to bear upon the elucidation of the text all the great 
 learning he has accumulated in the preparation of the various works with which his 
 name is now so honourably connected. We have little hesitation in saying that there 
 is no student of Chaucer living to whom this volume will not be an absolute neces- 
 sity. — Evening Post. 
 
 CHAUCER. By Alfred W. Pollard, M.A. 35 cents. 
 
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Helps to the Study of 
 
 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE. 
 
 CRAIK. Selections from English Prose Writers. Vol. I. From 
 the fourteenth to the end of the sixteenth century. By Henry 
 Craik, LL.D. Uniform with Ward's English Poets. Cabinet 
 edition, $1. 50. Student's edition, $1.10. 
 GREENE, MARLOWE, and BEN JONSON, Poems of. Edited 
 with critical and historical notes and memoirs by Robert Bell. 
 $1.00. 
 LANGLAND. The Vision of William concerning Piers the Plow- 
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 less. With notes and glossary, by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat, 
 LL.D. 2 vols. 8vo. $8.00. 
 The Same. Edition for schools. i6mo. $1.10. 
 MARLOWE. Edward II. With introduction, notes, etc., by O. W. 
 
 Tancock, M.A. i6mo. 75 cents. 
 MAYHEW (A. L.) and SKEAT (W. W.). A Concise Dictionary 
 
 of Middle English from A.D. 1150 to 1580. $1.90. 
 MORRIS and SKEAT. Specimens of Early English. A new and 
 revised edition. With introduction, notes, and glossarial index, 
 by R. Morris and W. W. Skeat. 
 Part I. From Old English Homilies to King Horn (a.d. 1150 
 
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 Part. II. From Robert of Gloucester to Gower (a.d. 1298 to 
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 OLIPHANT. Old and Middle English. By T. L. Kington Oli- 
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 STRATMANN. A Middle English Dictionary. Containing words 
 used by English writers from the twelfth to the fifteenth century. 
 By Francis Henry Stratmann. A new edition, rearranged, 
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 SWEET. First Middle English Primer. Extracts from the Ancron 
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 It is needless to say that the author's peculiar fitness to describe the language and 
 P'onunciation of Chaucer has been carefully exercised in the grammatical introduc- 
 tion, and in the phonetic translation of certain passages of the text, so that it may- 
 be confidently hoped that this little book may lead many to acquire a truer apprecia- 
 tion of the poet's art.— Modem Langitage Notes. 
 
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