Then Abraham, taking the bread and wine, answered in this fashion:

At this moment a horse richly laden with all sorts of precious gifts of gold and silver and jewels was led forward by a page. The beautiful animal had splendid harness and trappings upon him, and he walked proudly as though conscious of the royal presents he brought.

Melchizedek accepted the gift and, after further talk with Abraham, rode away, followed by his servants, who led the laden steed.

Abraham now wheeled his horse aside to make room for the messenger, who rode into the cleared space, and once more addressed the audience. In a long speech he explained to the people that the scene they had just witnessed was a sort of parable, and meant the Holy Communion, the Bread and Wine commemorating Christ’s sacrifice for the world.

So far the pageant or wooden stage had not been used at all. All the characters had come riding in to act their parts. But now the platform which stood waiting in the background, was drawn into the midst of the open space, and the rest of the play took place as usual, upon it.

First God the Father appeared, and Abraham entreated Him to send him a child to be his heir. The Almighty promised to grant his request, laid various commands upon him, and told him that his descendants should be as the stars of heaven for number; and the scene ended with Abraham kneeling to bless and thank the Lord for His mercy.

The curtains were now drawn, and before they were once more unclosed, the messenger again rode up, and explained to the people how some of the commands which God had just given to Abraham pointed to and foreshadowed the Sacrament of Baptism, which followed the birth of Christ.

When he had ridden away, and the curtains of the pageant again swung back, the children grew very excited, for almost the first words of the scene told them that Isaac might soon be expected to appear.

“You see,” said Master Gyseburn, “that some years are supposed to have passed between the last scene and this. God’s promise has been fulfilled, and Abraham now has a son. Listen!”

Abraham was alone on the stage, but just as Master Gyseburn finished speaking, God’s voice was heard:

replied Abraham.

the voice continued,

Though almost stunned with grief at the command, Abraham at once declared himself ready to obey the Lord. He said that all his household should remain at home except Isaac, with whom he would go to the appointed hill.

By this time Mistress Harpham was leaning anxiously over the children’s shoulders, for she knew that Giles in the character of Isaac was waiting to come on to the stage. All the guests were also very excited and full of expectation.

“It’s well that the boy acts with so good a man as Master Eliott!” exclaimed a woman who stood close to her hostess.

“Aye! John Eliott is a rare good player!” answered Mistress Harpham nervously. “We’ve never had a better ‘Abraham’ than he makes, and he’s taken such pains with Giles too, teaching him and training him for the part.”

“There he is! There he is!” cried Margery, as a pretty, delicate little figure in a linen tunic entered. “Oh! doesn’t he look nice!”

And indeed, with his fair curly hair and sweet face, Giles made quite a touching little Isaac.

“Hush! Hush! Abraham is speaking,” Master Gyseburn reminded her.

“Make thee ready, my darling,” he was saying in a voice which made Margery feel as though she wanted to cry:

There was a deep silence in the crowd, as speaking in a very clear, gentle voice, Isaac made reply:

Abraham then in trembling tone gave a blessing to his son, whose look of bewilderment and growing fear brought tears to the eyes of some of the women at the window.

Then, after the old man had bound the wood on the boy’s back, he was suddenly overcome with misery.

he exclaimed. But the cry of despair was immediately followed by

Still wondering and afraid, Isaac spoke:

And when Abraham told him that he saw no animal at all, the boy went on in a shaking voice:

Then the father, who could not bear to detect the fear in his boy’s voice, tried to comfort him by saying that the Lord would surely provide some beast that might be slain for the sacrifice. But Isaac was not satisfied. He begged the old man to tell him whether any evil would happen to him, and at the entreaty Abraham could no longer hide his terrible grief, but broke into wild words.

he exclaimed, wringing his hands; and finally, when Isaac again implored him to hide nothing from him, he told the dreadful truth.

he cried.

Then poor little Isaac went down on his knees and entreated his father to spare him:

By this time Mistress Harpham was crying, and so were many other mothers in the crowd, while they listened to the boy’s voice, and the words of Abraham as he explained to his son that this terrible thing must come to pass because it was God’s command.

Isaac listened, and, forgetting himself, tried very sweetly to comfort his poor father, begging him not to linger, but to do the deed quickly.

“Father, tell my mother of nothing,” he implored, anxious to spare her the knowledge of his fate; and then he asked that a handkerchief might be tied over his eyes to prevent him from seeing the flash of the sword.

Most of the women hid their own eyes while poor little Isaac was bound and laid upon the altar; when the boy spoke again, for the last time, they sobbed aloud.

Margery could not look when Abraham, snatching up the sword, held it high over the child’s head, and it was only when she heard a gentle voice that she dared to take her hands from her eyes.

“Look up! He’s not going to be hurt,” whispered Colin. “The angel has come. Two angels!”

With great relief Margery gazed at them. They were beautiful, she thought, with their long golden wings, and their white gowns; and she loved them for coming to save poor little Isaac.

She saw that Abraham had dropped his sword, and she heard his trembling voice saying,

replied one of the gracious angels, while the other pointed to a ram which was struggling in a thicket of bushes close by, and bade Abraham sacrifice the animal instead of his only son.

Then Abraham rejoiced, and offered praise to God:

Margery drew a long breath when, just before the curtains were closed, she saw Abraham unbinding and embracing his poor little son. But even then the play was not quite over, for again the messenger rode forward, and, placing himself in front of the pageant, explained to the audience that Isaac was a type of Christ, and that the sacrifice was meant to foreshadow His death upon the Cross. These were the words of his message:

VII
The Shepherds’ Play

Many were the exclamations of wonder and delight at the performance, and many the congratulations to the parents of the little actor, when The Sacrifice of Isaac passed on its way to the next halting-place. Indeed so excited and talkative were the guests at the house of Master Harpham, that the four following pageants received little attention from them.

“The poor child will be worn out before evening comes!” declared the women again and again, and Giles’ mother agreed. “Though he so loves playing,” she said, “that I don’t think he feels the fatigue as much as one might imagine. I know who will be worn out, though!” she exclaimed, turning to Mistress Short. “Your little ones ought to go and rest awhile. It’s altogether too long a day for them.”

Colin and Margery protested, but their mother was firm, and they were obliged to follow her to Mistress Harpham’s guest-room, the grandest they had ever seen, where Margery was placed on the big four-posted bed of oak, and Colin, grumbling a great deal, was forced to lie down on a little truckle-bed at its foot.

“You’ll be all the fresher, and enjoy the plays all the better for a bit of a sleep,” Mistress Harpham assured them. “And you shall be called in time for the Shepherds’ play—that I promise you.”

Margery brightened at this, for she had heard that the Shepherds’ play was the most popular of all the pageants, and she had been afraid of missing it. Though she and Colin had laughed at the idea of “a bit of a sleep,” each found a strange feeling of drowsiness creeping nearer, and considering that they had been up since daybreak, and it was now past noon, this was not so surprising as they considered it. At any rate, when their mother softly entered the room an hour later, she roused both children from sleep.

The Shepherds’ play, she told them, was expected in a few minutes; and they ran eagerly into the front room to take their old places at the window.

“Do tell us what they’ve been acting!” begged Margery, as their friend Master Gyseburn welcomed them with a smile.

“Well! we’ve had Moses lifting up the Serpent in the Wilderness. That was the Hosiers’ pageant. Then came the Grocers with the Salutation of Mary to Elisabeth. Next came Mary and Joseph with an angel commanding them to go to Bethlehem, acted by the Pewterers; and the last one was the Tylers’ (Thatchers’) pageant of the Stable at Bethlehem, with the Child Jesus in the Manger.”

“Oh! we wanted to see that!” exclaimed both the children, very disappointed.

“You will,” Master Gyseburn assured them. “After this pageant, the Shepherds go to the stable to worship the Child, so the manger scene appears again; in fact it appears several times.”

By the stir and noise in the crowd below, it was evident that the Shepherds’ play was awaited with great eagerness. There was a pushing and scrambling in the throng, which had greatly increased in numbers. Many people who had strolled away to get something to eat and drink had returned, and were trying to recover their lost places.

“Is this a funny play?” asked Colin.

“Yes,” said Master Gyseburn. “The Shepherds’ play, or at any rate the first part of it, is always expected to be amusing. It is an old custom, and the people would be very disappointed, and perhaps angry, if it were changed. This particular play is one that is always acted at Wakefield, but our Chandlers have borrowed it this year, because it is such a good one.”

“Oh! this is the Chandlers’ pageant, then?” asked Margery.

Master Gyseburn nodded. “Here it comes,” said he. “You will find that it has very little to do with the Bible story about the Shepherds.”

“Just a made-up play, I suppose?” said Colin.

“That’s it. Just a funny story to make people laugh.”

By this time the pageant stood in its place before the Harphams’ window, and the children noticed that the big stage was divided into two parts. One part represented a field, in which three shepherds were seated with their sheep huddled round them; and next to this scene, on a line with it, there was a sort of separate compartment, at present covered by curtains.

The shepherds began at once to grumble about the weather. They complained of the cold, which one of them said made his legs cramped, and his hands all chapped.

Neither Margery nor Colin, nor indeed any of the simple people who watched the play, found anything strange in this. Indeed very few of them realized that all the events they were watching, took place in an Eastern country, whose scenery and climate were very different from anything that was represented by the pageant. They imagined all the scenes as happening in a country very like England—if not in England itself! So the shepherds talked about the “moors,” which, as you know, spread through Yorkshire, and of “bannocks,” which are special cakes made in the North of England, and of “ale,” the usual English drink; and no one criticized nor found fault, because scarcely anybody knew, or remembered, if they knew, that Christ’s life was spent in a warm far-away Eastern land, whose manners, customs, and language were as different as possible from those of England.

The shepherds talked about many things familiar in the every-day life of most of the people in the crowd. They grumbled about the taxes they had to pay, and they gossiped about their wives, who they said were always scolding and nagging; and they complained bitterly about their hard work, and their low wages. And the listening people laughed and were delighted, because all they heard came home to them and was thoroughly well understood.

Presently another shepherd entered, dressed like the rest in a linen smock, though over it he had thrown a heavy cloak. His appearance was hailed by a shout of delight from the audience, for he was a favourite actor, and the part he was going to play was well known.

His name was Mac, and with the shepherds he evidently had the reputation of a thief, for directly he arrived one of them warned the others.

“Is he come?” he asked. “Then each one take heed to his things!” And to make sure of him when they thought of going to sleep, the men forced him to lie down in the midst of them, so that if he stirred they would be warned.

But no sooner did his companions begin to snore than Mac got up, and walking round the men, he worked a spell upon them to make them sleep heavily, chanting these words:

Then seeing that they were all motionless, he crept to the flock, and taking a fat sheep, put it under his cloak.

At this moment the curtains in front of the other division of the stage were pulled aside, showing a poor cottage room, in which sat Mac’s wife spinning. A little wicket-gate in front of the cottage was locked, and Mac (who was supposed to have walked some distance to his home) began to knock upon it, and to beg his wife to let him in. At first she was angry with him, saying that one day he would be hanged for sheep-stealing. But the first question after all was to decide how they were to hide the sheep during the search which was sure to be made by its owners. And here Mac’s wife showed her quick wits, for she suggested a splendid way out of the difficulty. This was to dress the creature up as a baby, and put it in the cradle!

Mac agreed, and there were roars of laughter as the poor struggling sheep was wrapped in flannels and robes, and at last tucked so securely in the cradle that it could not move.

When this was at last accomplished, Mac went back to the field, and lying down quietly in his old place, pretended to be fast asleep. Then one by one the shepherds awoke, and began to tell their dreams. All of them except Mac had dreamt that a sheep had been carried off; and Mac, so he said, had dreamt that his wife was very ill. He pretended to be much concerned and, telling the men he must go and see whether anything had happened to her, he got up and once more went home. Meanwhile the shepherds began to count their flock, and presently found that a sheep was missing. It was Mac, of course!—who else could have stolen it?—and at once in a body they rushed to his house, and insisted upon searching it.

No sheep could they find, and Mac and his wife pretended to be so angry at being disturbed, that at last the shepherds were leaving the cottage in despair, when an idea occurred to one of them.

He suddenly exclaimed that he would like to give something to the little baby.

“Mac, by your leave, let me give your bairn but sixpence,” he said.

“Nay, go ’way, he sleeps,” returned Mac. “When he wakens he weeps,” he added. “I pray you go hence.”

“Give me leave him to kiss, and lift up the clout,” begged one of the other men. And before Mac’s wife could prevent him he had pulled down the blanket.

“He has a long snout!” exclaimed the shepherd, who had only caught one glimpse of the strange “baby” in the cradle.

But Mac’s wife was most indignant, and at once declared that it was a beautiful baby:

But all she could say was useless, for by this time of course the shepherds were very suspicious, and the sheep was pulled out from the cradle, while the market-place rang with laughter. The angry shepherds, seizing a blanket, now forced Mac into it, and to the huge delight of the crowd, before returning to their field they tossed him violently, as a punishment for his evil-doing.

The laughter caused by this farce had scarcely died away when the serious part of the performance began. A second stage had been drawn meanwhile to the market-place, and was stationed at a little distance from the first one, where to the shepherds, once more quietly guarding their flock, there suddenly appeared an angel. The simple countrymen gazed in awe, while in a sweet voice he sang Gloria in Excelsis, and then, as he came closer, they sank on their knees, while he addressed them:

In amaze the shepherds listened, and in amaze they talked together when the shining angel had gone.

Pointing to a brilliant star, one of them declared it was a token to guide them “where the young Child lay.”

another urged. And so descending from the stage-field, they began their journey to Bethlehem, a journey represented by the space between the two pageants.

On the other platform meanwhile a charming scene was disclosed. There was the stable at Bethlehem, with its broken roof, and within the stable Mary in a long blue robe knelt beside the manger, at which, with their kind, patient eyes, an ox and an ass were also gazing.

Now the shepherds had arrived, and finding themselves in the presence of “that Child and that Lady,” they bent low their knees, and began to talk to the Baby Jesus as though they loved Him, and as though He were a child of their own to whom they had brought tiny presents.

said the first shepherd.

Then in the same homely, delightful way, the second shepherd greeted the Baby:

And the third shepherd said:

Mary, bending down to the shepherds, then spoke to them gently, telling them that she would pray her Son to keep them from woe, and bidding them spread the glad tidings of His birth. After a while the shepherds left her presence, singing glad songs in honour of the new-born King.

“I like that best of all, except Abraham and Isaac!” Margery exclaimed, as the pageants were drawn away. “And now we shall see the wicked King Herod, shan’t we?”

VIII
King Herod, the Wise Men, and the Massacre of the Innocents

That the children should long to see the pageant in which Herod appeared was no wonder, for he was a very well-known character in the miracle plays. Just as in some fairy tales the wicked giant is well known, and is always expected to be as wicked as possible, so in these plays Herod was always represented as a furious tyrant and a great boaster, who raged and stormed and used such exaggerated language that he seemed more like a madman than a sane human being. Though in the time of Queen Elizabeth miracle plays were growing rare, it is just possible that Shakespeare as a boy may have seen some of them, and when he makes Hamlet say that one of the actors in the play-scene “out-herods Herod,” he may have been thinking of the particular stamping and shouting Herod whom he himself had watched. But in any case, during the lifetime of Shakespeare the memory of the furious king must have lingered in the minds of old people at Stratford-on-Avon, many of whom as children must often have seen him blustering and screaming and ordering people to be killed.

At the windows of Master Robert Harpham’s house at any rate, on this June day when Henry V was king, there was much talk about the coming “Herod,” who was said to be an excellent player and to rage more furiously than any of the actors who had taken part in previous years. Excitement therefore ran high, when the Goldsmiths’ pageant drew up, for in their play—The Three Kings coming from the East—Herod was for the first time to appear.

The stage represented Herod’s palace. It was a very small palace, and it looked something like an enlarged sentry-box, brightly painted and ornamented at the top with a dome and various pinnacles. From its doorway, on to the space in front of it, there presently stepped a herald, who in these pompous words announced the coming of the King:

The last words, spoken by the herald in a low voice and with a knowing smile, were greeted with a roar of delight, for Herod was to some extent a comic character, at whom every one might laugh and “la grandeaboly vos umport” is bad French for “the devil run away with you!”

And now Herod himself majestically strode forth, and again laughter, half derisive, half admiring, rang out, for in spite of all the boasting and stamping which every one knew was coming, he made a magnificent figure.

Dressed as a Saracen, he wore wonderful Eastern robes, and a jewelled turban. His black hair was dishevelled, his face red and angry, and with his flashing eyes, and huge flashing sword, he looked formidable enough.

“Qui status in Jude ex Rex Israel,” he began in a loud commanding tone.

“That means—‘He that reigns King in Judea and Israel,’” explained Master Gyseburn to the children. “Now listen to his boasting.”

This was only part of the foolish king’s boasting, for he went on to declare that with one word he could destroy the whole world from the north unto the south; that he was prince of purgatory and chief captain of hell. No tongue, he declared, could tell of his possessions, his wealth, and his power. At last, turning to his servant the herald, he warned him to allow no strangers to pass through the realm without paying tribute to him, and bade him be gone hastily,

Then ordering “trumpets, viols, and other harmony” to announce his presence to all the world, Herod re-entered the palace, and the herald departed to do his bidding.

Now appeared riding through the market-place in great state, two of the three kings from the East. They were mounted on white horses with beautiful trappings, and each horse had a long cloth of velvet over his back. The kings were Gaspar (or Jaspar) and Balthazar. The first was an old man with a long white beard, the second a man in the prime of life. They both wore crowns of gold upon which the sunshine sparkled, and their dresses of wonderful colours were embroidered with jewels. Both of them had seen the Star in the East, and from a far country had followed it into Herod’s kingdom. As they rode, they talked together, reminding one another that the prophets had foretold the birth of a wonderful Child.

Presently, riding from another direction, came the third king, Melchior, a handsome youth also crowned and richly clothed. He was looking about him as he came, evidently seeking some guide, and his words showed that he too had seen the Star in the East.

Spurring his horse, he rode up to the two monarchs and addressed them:

said the old king, Gaspar.

added Balthazar, showing him a golden vase full of frankincense.

Then the third king, Melchior, replied,

Thus having greeted one another, the kings rode aside, while on the pageant, Herod came out of his palace to meet the herald, who, on seeing him, exclaimed:

returned Herod.

answered the herald.

Herod inquired angrily.

said the herald.

Whereupon Herod, restraining his wrath, commanded the herald on pain of death to follow the kings, to speak gently to them, in order to deceive them into imagining that they would be well treated, and then to speed in hot haste to Jerusalem to make inquiries about the Child they sought.

So the herald, descending from the stage, followed Gaspar, Balthazar, and Melchior, and very courteously told them that Herod, “king of these countries wide,” desired to speak with them. The travellers, immediately agreeing to his wish, were brought before the palace. There Herod received them courteously, wished them a safe journey, and begged them to return the same way.

he added, allowing his guests to depart with many compliments on either side.

But no sooner had they mounted their horses and ridden away than Herod’s rage blazed forth.

he exclaimed, stalking into his palace, while the kings rode a little distance to another pageant where again the stable at Bethlehem was represented, with Mary watching by the manger.

Here, just as the shepherds had done, but in much more stately language, they offered their costly gifts to the Child.

Gaspar gave a cup of gold. “In tokening Thou art without peer,” he said, as he laid his offering at the foot of the manger.

A cup full of frankincense was Balthazar’s gift, “In tokening of priesthood and dignity of office;” while the young king Melchior had brought a precious goblet, with “myrrh for mortality, in tokening Thou shalt mankind restore to life by Thy death upon a tree.”

Then Mary spoke to the kings as sweetly as she had addressed the shepherds, and presently they withdrew a little from her presence and began to discuss their homeward journey. Gaspar declared that according to their promise they must return through Herod’s land; and though the others agreed, they were all so fatigued that they decided to lie down and rest awhile. Accordingly, at a distance from the manger, they threw themselves on the ground. Before long they slept, and while they slept, a beautiful vision appeared to them.

An angel, who seemed to be hovering in the air, descended from the darkness of the stable-roof, and bent still hovering above them.

“Is he really flying?” exclaimed Margery, in an awed voice; and Master Gyseburn smiled.

“It looks as though he were, certainly,” he agreed; “but there’s a clever contrivance arranged by the carpenters and fastened to the roof up there, by which the angel is let down and made to look as though he were fluttering in the air.”

“He is lovely!” declared Margery, sighing with pleasure. “Look at his golden curls and his long wings! What is he going to say to the kings?”

“Listen!” Colin advised her.

Then, bending a moment longer over the still sleeping kings, he flew upwards and was lost to sight.

When the kings awoke, it was to discover that each one of them had heard the angel’s warning; so taking a last leave of the Babe and His Mother, they set out on their journey, carefully arranging not to pass through the dominions of the wicked and treacherous Herod.

Meanwhile, the herald, in fear and trembling, once more ascended the steps leading to the palace-portal, and broke the news to his master:

Then indeed the audience had an opportunity of watching Herod’s rage:

Roaring and stamping and raving, as he said of himself, the king rushed down the pageant steps and “raged” in the market-place amongst the people, to the delight of the grown-up folk and the terror of the children in the crowd. And all the while he was running to-and-fro, screaming with fury, he was giving orders that “all young children” should be slain.

But even the rough soldiers who had come from the palace to follow their master, and had at last succeeded in getting him to return to the stage, were horrified at this cruel command, and one of them spoke indignantly:

Another one agreed with his companion, and warned Herod that to murder little children in such wholesale fashion would be sufficient provocation for a general rising among his subjects.

shouted the mad tyrant; and, raging and stamping once more, he commanded both soldiers to be hanged on the gallows unless they immediately carried out his orders.

So for very fear the soldiers were obliged to obey, and Herod drove them forth to do the cruel deed, telling them to bring all the little dead children “before his sight,” so that he might be sure his orders had been carried out.

But now the attention of the audience was directed towards the other pageant representing the Stable at Bethlehem. Here the beautiful angel who had already appeared to the three kings was seen fluttering down towards the Mother of Jesus and her husband Joseph, and soon his voice was heard: