Part 52 (1/2)

The Middle Ages were the age of contrasts; what measure meant was then unknown. This has already been noticed _a propos_ of Chaucer; the cleverest _compensated_, as Chaucer did, their Miller's tales with stories of Griselda. When they intend to be tender the authors of Mysteries fall in most cases into that mawkish sentimentality by which the man of the people or the barbarian is often detected. A feeling for measure is a produce of civilisation, and men of the people ignore it.

Those street daubers who draw on the flags of the London foot-paths always represent heartrending scenes, or scenes of a sweetness unspeakable: here are fires, storms, and disasters; now a soldier, in the middle of a battle, forgets his own danger, and washes the wound of his horse; then cascades under an azure sky, amidst a spring landscape, with a blue bird flying about. Many such drawings might be detected in d.i.c.kens, many also in the Mysteries. After a truly touching scene between Abraham and his son, the pretty things Isaac does and says, his prayer not to see the sword so keen, cease to touch, and come very near making us laugh. The contrast between the fury of Herod and the sweetness of Joseph and Mary is similarly carried to an extreme. This same Joseph who a minute ago insulted his wife in words impossible to quote, has now become such a sweet and gentle saint that one can scarcely believe the same man addresses us. He is packing before his journey to Egypt; he will take his tools with him, his ”_smale_ instrumentes.”[801] Is there anything more touching? Nothing, except perhaps the appeal of the street painter, calling our attention to the fact that he draws ”on the _rude_ stone.” How could the pa.s.ser-by not be touched by the idea that the stone is so hard? In the Middle Ages people melted at this, they were moved, they wept; and all at once they were in a mood to enjoy the most enormous buffooneries. These fill a large place in the Mysteries, and beside them s.h.i.+ne scenes of real comedy, evincing great accuracy of observation.

The personages worst treated in Mysteries are always kings; they are mostly represented as being grotesque and mischievous. The playwrights might have given as their excuse that their kings are miscreants, and that black is not dark enough to paint such faces. But to this commendable motive was added a sly pleasure felt in caricaturing those great men, not only because they were heathens, but also because they were kings; for when Christian princes and lords appear on the stage, the satire is often continued. Thus Lancelot of the Lake appears unexpectedly at the Court of king Herod, and after much rant the lover of queen Guinevere draws his invincible sword and ma.s.sacres the Innocents (”Chester Plays”).

Herod, Augustus, Tiberius, Pilate, Pharaoh, the King of Ma.r.s.eilles, always open the scenes where they figure with a speech, in which they sound their own praise. It was an established tradition; in the same way as G.o.d the Father delivered a sermon, these personages made what the ma.n.u.scripts technically call ”their boast.” They are the masters of the universe; they wield the thunder; everybody obeys them; they swear and curse unblus.h.i.+ngly (by Mahomet); they are very noisy. They strut about, proud of their fine dresses and fine phrases, and of their French, French being there again a token of power and authority. The English Herod could not claim kins.h.i.+p with the Norman Dukes, but the subjects of Angevin monarchs would have shrugged their shoulders at the representation of a prince who did not speak French. It was for them the sign of princes.h.i.+p, as a tiara was the sign of G.o.dhead. Herod therefore spoke French, a very mean sort of French, it is true, and the Parliament of Paris which was to express later its indignation at the faulty grammar of the ”Confreres de la Pa.s.sion” would have suffered much if it had seen what became of the n.o.ble language of France on the scaffolds at Chester. But it did not matter; any words were enough, in the same way as any sword would do as an emblem for St. Paul.

One of the duties of these strutting heroes was to maintain silence. It seemed as if they had a privilege for noise making, and they repressed encroachments; their task was not an easy one. Be still, ”beshers,”

cries Augustus; ”beshers” means ”beaux sires” in the kingly French of the Mysteries:

Be stylle, beshers, I commawnd you, That no man speke a word here now Bot I my self alon.

And if ye do, I make a vow, Thys brand abowte youre nekys shalle bow, For-thy by stylle as ston.[802]

Silence! cries Tiberius. Silence! cries Herod:

Styr not bot ye have lefe, For if ye do I clefe You smalle as flesh to pott.[803]

Tiberius knows Latin, and does not conceal it from the audience:

Stynt, I say, gyf men place, quia sum dominus dominorum, He that agans me says rapietur lux oculorum.[804]

And each of them hereupon moves about his scaffold, and gives the best idea he can of the magnitude of his power:

Above all kynges under the cloudys crystall, Royally I reigne in welthe without woo ...

I am Kyng Herowdes.[805]

Be it known, says another:

That of heven and h.e.l.l chyff rewlar am I, To wos magnyfycens non stondyt egall, For I am soveren of al soverens.[806]

Make room, says a third:

A-wantt, a-want the, on-worthy wrecchesse!

Why lowtt ye nat low to my lawdabyll presens?...

I am a sofereyn semely, that ye se b.u.t.t seyld; Non swyche onder sonne, the sothe for to say ...

I am kyng of Marcylle![807]

Such princes fear nothing, and are never abashed; they are on familiar terms with the audience, and interpellate the bystanders, which was a sure cause of merriment, but not of good order. Octavian, being well pleased with the services of one of his men, tells him:

Boye, their be ladyes many a one, Amonge them all chouse thee one, Take the faierest, or elles non, And freely I geve her thee.[808]

Every lord bows to my law, observes Tiberius:

Is it nat so? Sey yow all with on showte.

and a note in the ma.n.u.script has: ”Here answerryt all the pepul at ons,'Ya, my lord, ya.'”[809] All this was performed with appropriate gesture, that is, as wild as the words they went with, a tradition that long survived. Shakespeare complained, as we know, of the delivery of those actors who ”out-heroded Herod.”

The authors of English Mysteries had no great experience of Courts; they drew their caricatures somewhat haphazard. They were neither very learned nor very careful; anachronisms and mistakes swarm under their pen. While Herod sacrifices to Mahomet, Noah invokes the Blessed Virgin, and the Christmas shepherds swear by ”the death of Christ,” whose birth is announced to them at the end of the play.

The psychology of these dramas is not very deep, especially when the question is of personages of rank, and of feelings of a refined sort.

The authors of Mysteries speak then at random and describe by hearsay; they have seen their models only from afar, and are not familiar with them. When they have to show how it is that young Mary Magdalen, as virtuous as she was beautiful, consents to sin for the first time, they do it in the plainest fas.h.i.+on. A ”galaunt” meets her and tells her that he finds her very pretty, and loves her. ”Why, sir,” the young lady replies, ”wene you that I were a kelle (prost.i.tute)?” Not at all, says the other, but you are so pretty! Shall we not dance together? Shall we drink something?