The last chapter occupied itself mainly with the diffusion of the vernacular religious plays in England, with their organization, and with their part in municipal and village life. That study must be completed by at least the outline of another, dealing with the content and nature of the performances themselves. Here again it is variety rather than uniformity which requires attention; for the records and texts of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries bear witness to the effective survival of all the diverse types of play, to which the evolution of the dramatic instinct gave birth in its progress from liturgical office to cosmic cycle.

The term of the evolution—the cosmic cycle itself—is represented by five complete texts, and one fragment sufficiently substantial to be ranked with these. There are the plays of the York and Chester crafts. The manuscript of the former dates from the middle of the fifteenth century; those of the latter from the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth: but in both cases it may be assumed that we possess the plays, with certain modifications, additions, and omissions, as they were given in the palmy days of their history. There are also, in a fifteenth-century manuscript, the so-called ‘Towneley’ plays, as to whose origin the most likely theory is that they are the craft-plays of Wakefield. There is the Ludus Coventriae, also of the fifteenth century, which has probably nothing to do with Coventry, but is either, as scholars generally hold, the text of a strolling company, or, as seems to me more probable, that of a stationary play at some town in the East Midlands not yet identified. If I am right, the Ludus Coventriae occupies a midway position between the three northern craft cycles, which are all processional plays, split up into a number of distinct pageants, and the fifth text, which is Cornish. This is probably of the fourteenth century, although extant in a fifteenth-century manuscript, and doubtless represents a stationary performance in one of the ‘rounds’ still to be seen about Cornwall. The fragment, also Cornish, is not a wholly independent play, but a sixteenth-century expansion of part of the earlier text.

A study of the table of incidents printed in an appendix will show the general scope of the cyclical plays⁠[373]. My comments thereon must be few and brief. The four northerly cycles have a kernel of common matter, which corresponds very closely with just that dramatic stuff which was handled in the liturgical and the earliest vernacular dramas. It includes the Fall of Lucifer, the Creation, Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel; then the Annunciation and the group of scenes, from the Pastores to the Massacre of the Innocents, which went to make up the Stella; then the Passion in the narrower sense, centring in the planctus Mariae and extending from the Conspiracy of the Jews to the Descent from the Cross; then the Resurrection scenes, centring in the Quem quaeritis and ending with the Peregrini and Incredulity of Thomas; then the Ascension, the Pentecost, and finally the Iudicium or Doomsday. Almost equally invariable is something in the way of a Prophetae. But at York this is thrown into narrative instead of dramatic form; and at Chester the typical defile of prophets, each with his harangue, is deferred to almost the close of the cycle (Play xxiii), and in its usual place stand two independent episodes of Balaam and of Octavian and the Sibyl. Two other groups of scenes exhibit a larger measure of diversity between the four cycles. One is that drawn from the history of the Old Testament Fathers, out of which the Deluge and the Sacrifice of Isaac are the only incidents adopted by all four. The other is the series taken from the missionary life of Christ, where the only common scenes are the Raising of Lazarus and the Feast in the House of Simon the Leper, both of which can be traced back to the liturgical drama⁠[374].

The principal source of the plays belonging to this common kernel is, of course, the biblical narrative, which is followed, so far as it goes, with considerable fidelity, the most remarkable divergence being that of the Ludus Coventriae, which merges the Last Supper with the scene in the House of Simon. But certain embroideries upon scripture, which found their way into the religious drama at an early stage of its evolution, are preserved and further elaborated. Thus each of the four cycles has its Harrowing of Hell, which links the later scenes with the earlier by introducing, as well as the devils, such personages as Adam and Eve, Enoch and Elijah, John the Baptist and others⁠[375]. Similarly the Suspicion of Joseph and the obstetrices at the Virgin Birth finds a place in all four⁠[376], as does the Healing of Longinus, the blind knight, by the blood-drops from the cross⁠[377]. Other apocryphal or legendary elements are confined to one or more of the cycles⁠[378]. The Chester plays, for example, have a marked development of the eschatological scenes. Not only is the Iudicium itself extremely long and elaborate, but it is preceded by two distinct plays, one a section of the split-up Prophetae ending with the Fifteen Signs, the other an Antichrist, in which, as in the Tegernsee Antichristus⁠[379], Enoch and Elijah appear as disputants. The most legendary of the northerly cycles is without doubt the Ludus Coventriae. It has the legend of Veronica, which is only hinted at in the corresponding York play. And it has so long a series of scenes drawn from the legends of the Virgin as to make it probable that, like the Lincoln plays and another East Midland cycle of which a fragment is extant, it was performed not on Corpus Christi day but on that of St. Anne. Before the Annunciation it inserts the episodes of Joachim and Anne, Mary in the Temple, and the Betrothal of Mary. To the common episode of the Suspicion of Joseph it adds the Purgation of Mary. In the Resurrection scene is a purely legendary Apparition of Christ to the Virgin; while the Death, Burial, Assumption, and Coronation of Mary intervene between the Pentecost and the Iudicium. This matter from the after-history of the Virgin belongs also to the York plays, which add the Apparition to St. Thomas of India.

The Cornish plays, although in many respects they are parallel to those of the north, have yet some very marked features of their own. They have episodes of the miraculous Release of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea from Prison, and of the Death of Pilate and the Interview of Veronica with Tiberius⁠[380]. But their most remarkable legendary addition is an elaborate treatment of the history of the Holy Rood, which provides the motives for the scenes dealing with Seth, Moses, David, Solomon, Maximilla, and the Bridge upon Cedron⁠[381]. On the other hand the Cornish plays close with the Ascension and entirely omit the sub-cycle of the Nativity, passing direct, but for the Holy Rood matter, from the Sacrifice of Isaac to the Temptation.

It is not improbable that the majority of the Corpus Christi and other greater English plays reached the dimensions of a cosmic cycle. But in only a few cases is any definite evidence on the point available. Complete lists are preserved from Beverley and Norwich. The Beverley series seems to have been much on the scale of the four extant cycles. It extended in thirty-six pageants from the Fall of Lucifer to Doomsday. Like the Cornish cycle, it included the episode of Adam and Seth; and it presented an exceptional feature in the insertion of a play of the Children of Israel after the Flight into Egypt. The Norwich cycle, which began with the Creation and ended with Pentecost, was a short one of twelve pageants⁠[382]. The small number is due, partly to the grouping of several episodes in a single play, partly to the omission of the Passion proper. The Resurrection followed immediately upon the Baptism. Of other plays, the chroniclers record that in 1391 the London performance covered both the Old and New Testament, that in 1409 it went from the Creation to the Day of Judgement, and that in 1411 it was ‘from the begynnyng of the worlde.’ The fragmentary indications of the records preserved show that the Chelmsford play stretched at least from the Creation to the Crucifixion, the Newcastle play at least from the Creation to the Burial of the Virgin⁠[383], the Lincoln play at least from the Deluge to the Coronation of the Virgin. On the other hand the range of the Coventry plays can only be shown to have been from the Annunciation to Doomsday, although it may be by a mere accident that no Old Testament scenes are here to be identified⁠[384].

Examples, though unfortunately no full texts, can also be traced of the separate Nativity and Easter cycles, the merging of which was the most important step in the formation of the complete Corpus Christi play. Both, if I read the evidence aright, existed at Aberdeen. There was a ‘Haliblude’ play on Corpus Christi day, which I conceive to have been essentially a Passion and Resurrection, and a play at Candlemas, which seems to have included, as well as the Purification, a Stella, a Presentation in the Temple, and something in the way of a Prophetae. There were performances of Passions in Reading in 1508, in Dublin in 1528, at Shrewsbury in 1567, and in London in 1557 and as late as between 1613 and 1622. I do not suppose that in any of these cases ‘Passion’ excludes ‘Resurrection.’ The New Romney town play, also, seems to have been a Passion in the wider sense. The records of Easter plays at Bath (1482), Leicester (1504-7), Morebath (1520-74), Reading (1507, 1533-5), and Kingston (1513-65), are too slight to bear much comment. They may relate to almost anything from a mere Latin Quem quaeritis to a full vernacular Passion and Resurrection.

One interesting text falls to be considered at this point. This is a fifteenth-century Burial and Resurrection of northern provenance. It is very lyrical in character, and apparently the author set out to write a ‘treyte’ to be read, and shortly after the beginning changed his mind and made a play of it. There are two scenes. The first is an elaborate planctus, ‘to be playede on gud-friday after-none.’ The second, intended for ‘Esterday after the resurrectione, In the morowe’ is a Quem quaeritis. An Ascension play was performed by the Holy Trinity guild at Sleaford in 1480. A ‘Christmasse play’ is recorded at Tintinhull in 1451. How much it included can hardly be guessed. But the Stella maintained its independent position, and is found at Yarmouth (1462-1512), Reading (1499, 1539), Leicester (1547), Canterbury (1503), Holbeach (1548), and Hascombe (1579)⁠[385].

The plays just enumerated may be regarded as of precyclical types. But there are a few others which, although they occur independently, would have their more natural position in cycles of less or greater range. In some of these cases it is probable that the independence is only apparent, a mere matter of incomplete evidence. There are two fifteenth-century plays, both on the subject of Abraham and Isaac, one of which is preserved in the ‘Book of Brome’ from Suffolk, the other in a manuscript now at Dublin, but probably of South Midland provenance. It is of course not impossible that these represent isolated performances, but it is on the whole more likely that they are fragments of lost cycles. A third play, of Midland origin, preserved in the Digby manuscript, occupies an exceptional position. It deals with the Massacre of the Innocents and the Purification, and allusions in a prologue and epilogue make it clear that it belonged to a cycle in which it was preceded by a Pastores and a Magi, and followed by a Christ in the Temple. This cycle, however, was not played all at once, but a portion was given year by year on St. Anne’s day. One of the groups of plays brought together in the Ludus Coventriae was evidently intended for performance under similar conditions. It is probable that the ludus Filiorum Israelis of the Cambridge Corpus Christi guild about 1350, the Abraham and Isaac of the ‘schaft’ of St. Dunstan’s, Canterbury, between 1491 and 1520, and the Adam and Eve (1507) and ‘Cayme’s pageaunt’ (1512-5) of St. Lawrence’s, Reading, formed parts of Corpus Christi cycles given in those towns.

Isolated performances of plays picked out of a cycle, or upon subjects usually treated in a cycle, are, however, not unknown. One or more of the Chester plays occasionally formed part of the civic entertainment of a royal or noble personage. When Henry VII visited Winchester in 1486, the schoolboys of the two great abbeys of Hyde and St. Swithin’s gave a Christi Descensus ad Inferos before him at dinner. At York the acting of an ‘interlude of St. Thomas the Apostle’ on a St. Bartholomew’s eve towards the end of the reign of Henry VIII became the occasion for a papist demonstration. This might have been either the Incredulity of Thomas (Play xlii) or the Apparition of the Virgin to St. Thomas in India (Play xlvi) from the Corpus Christi cycle. At York, also, there was, in the hands of a Corpus Christi guild, a distinct play, frequently performed between 1446 and the Reformation, called the Creed play. This was apparently an expansion of a motive found in the Pentecost scene at Chester and probably at Coventry, but not at York itself, wherein, after the coming of the Holy Ghost, each of the apostles in turn enunciates one of the articles of the so-called Apostles’ creed. At Hull, where I find no trace of a cycle, the Trinity guild of sea-faring men had their play of Noah. At Lincoln, a play of Tobit, which does not actually, so far as I know, form part of the Old Testament section of any English cycle⁠[386], was substituted for the regular Corpus Christi play after the Reformation. Naturally such exceptional performances became more common in the decadence of the religious drama⁠[387]. Thus the very scratch series of plays shown before the earl of Kildare at Dublin, in the Christmas of 1528, included, besides other contributions both sacred and secular, an Adam and Eve by the tailors and a Joseph and Mary by the carpenters. The choice of these subjects was evidently motived by their appropriateness to the craft representing them. Similarly, when John Bale was bishop of Ossory in 1553, he had performed at the market-cross of Kilkenny, on the day of the proclamation of Queen Mary, a short fragment of a cycle consisting of a Prophetae, a Baptism, and a Temptation. One fancies that this strange protagonist of the Reformation must have had in his mind some quaint verbal analogy between ‘John Bale’ and ‘John Baptist,’ for he states that he also wrote a dramatic Vita D. Ioannis Baptistae in fourteen books. Nor is this the only example of the treatment of a subject, merely episodic in the Corpus Christi cycles, in a distinct and elaborate play. The invaluable Digby manuscript contains a similar expansion, from the East or West Midlands, of the story of Mary Magdalen. It follows the narrative of the Golden Legend, and introduces the familiar scenes of the Raising of Lazarus, the Feast in the House of Simon the Leper, the Quem quaeritis, and the Hortulanus, preceding these with episodes of the life of the Magdalen in gaudio, and following them with the Conversion of the King and Queen of Marseilles, and of Mary’s Life in the Wilderness and Death. As offshoots from the Corpus Christi cycle may also be regarded the Deaths of the Apostles played in the Dublin series of 1528, Thomas Ashton’s Julian the Apostate at Shrewsbury in 1565, and the Destruction of Jerusalem, written by John Smith in 1584 to take the place of the traditional plays at Coventry⁠[388].

The Mary Magdalen and the rest of the group just described may be considered as standing halfway between the plays of and akin to the Corpus Christi cycle and those founded on the legends of saints. Of regular saint-plays there are unfortunately only two texts available from these islands. The Digby manuscript contains an East Midland Conversion of St. Paul, which, however, is almost wholly biblical and not legendary. It will be remembered that the subject was one known even to the liturgical drama⁠[389]. There is also a Cornish play of St. Meriasek or Mereadocus, the patron saint of Camborne, written at the beginning of the sixteenth century. Other such plays are, however, upon record. It is perhaps curious that no mention should be found of any English parallel to either the Saint Nicholas plays or the Miracles de Nostre Dame of France. It can hardly be doubted that the former at least existed in connexion with the widespread revel of the Boy Bishop⁠[390]. The most popular English saint for dramatic purposes appears to have been St. George. A play of St. George was maintained by the town of Lydd, and was probably copied by a neighbouring guild at New Romney. Another, on an elaborate scale, was given by a group of villages at Bassingbourne in 1511. These seem to have been genuine dramas, and not mere ‘ridings’ or folk-plays such as occur elsewhere⁠[391]. A St. George play, described by Collier at Windsor in 1416, can be resolved into a cake. St. Thomas of Canterbury was only honoured with a dumb show in his own city, but there was a play upon him at King’s Lynn in 1385. Of quite a number of other saint-plays the barest notices exist. London had hers on St. Catherine; Windsor on St. Clotilda; Coventry on St. Catherine and St. Crytyan; Lincoln on St. Laurence, St. Susanna, St. Clara, and St. James; Shrewsbury on St. Feliciana and St. Sabina; Bethersden in Kent on St. Christina; Braintree in Essex on St. Swithin, St. Andrew, and St. Eustace. The Dublin shoemakers contributed a play on their patron saints Crispin and Crispinian to the Dublin festival of 1528. In London, the plays on the days of St. Lucy and St. Margaret at St. Margaret’s, Southwark, may have been on the stories of those saints; and during the Marian reaction a ‘goodly’ stage-play was given at St. Olave’s church on St. Olave’s day.

Quite unique, as dealing with a contemporary ‘miracle,’ is the play of the Blessed Sacrament, performed at one of the many places bearing the name of Croxton, in the latter half of the fifteenth century. According to the manuscript, the event upon which it was based, the marvellous conversion of a Jew who attempted an outrage upon a host, took place at Heraclea in Spain, in 1461. There is, curiously enough, a late French play, quite independent of the English one, upon an exactly parallel miracle assigned to Paris and the thirteenth century⁠[392].

The variation in the types of English miracle-plays naturally implies some variation also in the manner of representation. The normal craft cycles of the greater towns were processional in character. They were not played throughout by a single body of actors and upon a single stage; but the action was divided into a number of independent scenes, to each of which was assigned its own group of performers and its own small movable stage or ‘pageant.’ And each scene was repeated at several ‘stations’ in different parts of the city, pageant succeeding pageant in regular order, with the general effect of a vast procession slowly unrolling itself along the streets⁠[393]. This method of playing was convenient to the distribution of the leitourgia among the guilds, and was adopted in all those places, Chester, York, Beverley, and Coventry, from which our records happen to be the fullest. But it was not the primitive method and, as has been pointed out in a previous chapter, it probably arose from an attempt about the beginning of the fourteenth century to adapt the already existing miracle-plays to the distinctive feature of the festival of Corpus Christi. To this point it will be necessary to recur⁠[394]. The processional play was rare outside England, and even in England it at no period became universal. Two at least of the great cycles that survive, the Cornish one and the Ludus Coventriae, as well as several smaller plays, can be clearly shown from internal evidence to have been intended for stationary performance. They do not naturally cleave asunder into distinct scenes. The same personages appear and reappear: the same properties and bits of scenery are left and returned to, often at considerable intervals. Moreover stationary performances are frequently implied by the records. At Lincoln, after the suppression of the old visus of St. Anne’s processional play, the corporation ordered the performance of a ‘standing’ play ‘of some story of the Bible.’ At Newcastle, although pageants of the plays went in the procession, the actual performance seems to have been given in a ‘stead.’ This arrangement is exactly parallel to that of the Florentine rappresentazioni on St. John’s day in 1454⁠[395]. Elsewhere there was commonly enough no ‘pageant’ at all. The ‘standing’ plays may be traced at various removes from their original scene, the floor of the church⁠[396]. Indeed, the examples of Braintree in 1523 and 1525, of Halstead in 1529, of Heybridge in 1532, seem to show that, quite apart from the survival of ritual plays proper, the miracle-play, even at the very moment of its extinction, had not been always and everywhere excluded from the church itself. The Beverley repraesentatio dominicae resurrectionis about 1220 had got as far as the churchyard. At Bungay in 1566 they played in the churchyard, and at Harling in 1452 ‘at the cherch gate.’ The latest of all the village plays, that of Hascombe in 1579, was at, but perhaps not in the church. The next step brought the plays to the market-place, which itself in many towns lay just outside the church door. At Louth the Corpus Christi play was in the ‘markit-stede,’ and so were some at least of the Reading plays. A neighbouring field might be convenient; the Bassingbourne play was in a ‘croft,’ that of Chelmsford in a ‘pightell.’ Certain places had a bit of waste ground traditionally devoted to the entertainment of the citizens. Such were the ‘Forbury’ at Reading and the ‘Quarry’ at Shrewsbury. The Aberdeen Haliblude play took place apud ly Wyndmylhill. Edinburgh constructed its ‘playfield’ in the Greenside at considerable cost in 1554, while in Cornwall permanent amphitheatres were in use. A writer contemporary with the later performances describes these as made of earth in open fields with an enclosed ‘playne’ of some fifty feet in diameter. If they are correctly identified with the ‘rounds’ of St. Just and Perranzabulo, these examples at least were much larger. The St. Just round is of stone, with seven tiers of seats, and measures 126 feet in diameter; the earthen one at Perranzabulo is 130 feet, and has a curious pit in the centre, joined to the edge by a trench. The disposition of these rounds at the time of performance can be studied in the diagrams reproduced from the fifteenth-century manuscript of the plays by Mr. Norris. Within a circular area is arranged a ring of eight spots which probably represent structures elevated above the general surface of the ‘playne.’ They have labels assigning them to the principal actors. Thus for the Origo Mundi the labels are Celum, Tortores, Infernum, Rex Pharao, Rex Dauid, Rex Sal[omon], Abraham, Ortus. From the stage directions it would appear that the raised portions were called pulpita or tenti, and by Jordan at a later date ‘rooms’; that the ‘playne’ was the platea; and that the action went on partly on the pulpita, partly on the platea between them. Except that it is circular instead of oblong, the scheme corresponds exactly to that of the continental plays shown in an earlier chapter to have been determined by the conditions of performance within a church⁠[397]. Those plays also had their platea; and their domus, loca, or sedes answer to the pulpita and tenti of Cornwall. Judging by the somewhat scanty indications available, the disposition of other English ‘standing’ plays must have been on very similar lines. In some cases there is evidence that the level platea was replaced by a raised ‘platform,’ ‘scaffold,’ or ‘stage.’ Thus Chaucer’s ‘joly Absolon’ played Herod ‘on a scaffold hye⁠[398].’ But the ‘stages’ or ‘scaffolds’ mentioned in accounts are sometimes merely for the spectators and sometimes equivalent to the loca of leading actors. In the Digby play of St. Mary Magdalen, a practicable ship moves about the platea. Possibly a similar bit of realism was used elsewhere for the ever popular ‘Noy schippe,’ and, if so, this may explain the pit and trench of the Perranzabulo ‘round⁠[399].’

As to the ‘pageant’ or movable stage of the processional plays, a good deal of information is preserved. Dugdale describes it at Coventry as a ‘Theater ... very large and high, placed upon wheels’; Rogers at Chester as ‘a highe place made like a howse with ij rowmes, beinge open on yᵉ tope: the lower rowme they apparelled and dressed them selues; and in the higher rowme they played; and they stood vpon 6 (v.l. 4) wheeles.’ According to an inventory of 1565 the grocers’ pageant at Norwich was ‘a Howse of Waynskott paynted and buylded on a Carte wᵗ fowre whelys.’ It had a square top or canopy; on it were placed a gilt griffin and two large and eighty-three small vanes; and about it were hung three painted cloths. Similar adornments of the pageant were in use at Coventry. At York it bore the arms of the city or of the guild. M. Jusserand has unearthed from a Bodleian manuscript two fourteenth-century miniatures which apparently represent pageants. These have draperies covering the whole of the lower ‘room’ down to the ground and resemble nothing so much as the ambulant theatre of a Punch and Judy show⁠[400]. The pageants were probably arranged so that the action might be visible from every side. The scenery would therefore be simple—a throne, a house. Certain plays, however, necessitate a divided scene, such as the inside and outside of a temple⁠[401]. For the ‘hell,’ the traditional monstrous head on a lower level, with practicable chains and fire, was required⁠[402]. The pageant used for the Flood scene was doubtless shaped like an ark. The ‘shipp’ belonging to the Trinity guild of Hull cost £5 8s. 4d. The ordinary pageant may have been less expensive. That of the Doom at York was made ‘of newe substanciale’ for seven marks, the old pageant and a free admission into the guild. At Lincoln three times as much was charged for housing the ship as for any other pageant.

The origin of the pageant is capable of a very easy explanation⁠[403]. Like the edifizio of the Italian rappresentazioni, it is simply the raised locus, sedes, or domus of the stationary play put upon wheels. Just as the action of the stationary play took place partly on the various sedes, partly in the platea, so Coventry actors come and go to and from the pageant in the street. ‘Here Erode ragis in the pagond & in the strete also,’ says a stage direction. It should be observed that the plays at Coventry were exceptionally long, and that scaffolds seem to have been attached to the pageant proper in order to get sufficient space.

The number of ‘stations’ at which the plays were given varied in the different towns. At York there were from twelve to sixteen; at Beverley six; at Coventry not more than three or four can be identified. The many scenes and frequent repetitions naturally made the processional plays very lengthy affairs. At Chester they were spread over three days; at York they were got through in one, but playing began at half-past four in the morning. At Newcastle, on the other hand, the plays were in the afternoon. The banns of the Ludus Coventriae promise a performance ‘at vj of the belle,’ but whether in the morning or evening is not stated.

The normal occasion for the greater plays was the feast of Corpus Christi on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday. A few exceptions are, however, to be noted. At Chester, Norwich, New Romney, and apparently Leicester, the date chosen was Whitsuntide. Yet at Chester the play is called the ‘Corpus Christi play’ in craft documents of the fifteenth century, and even in the municipal ‘White Book’ of the sixteenth; from which it must be inferred either that the term was used of all cyclical plays without regard to their date, or, more probably, that at Chester a performance originally given on Corpus Christi day had been for some reason transferred to Whitsuntide. The motive may have been a desire to avoid clashing between the plays and the great Corpus Christi procession in which the crafts everywhere took a prominent part. A difficulty arose on this score at York in 1426, and a Franciscan preacher, one William Melton, tried to induce the citizens to have the plays on the day before Corpus Christi. Ultimately the alternative was adopted of having the procession on the day after. At Lincoln the plays were on St. Anne’s day (July 26) and the last pageant was acted by the clergy in the nave of the cathedral. At Aberdeen there appear to have been two cycles, a processional Nativity at Candlemas and a Haliblude play on Windmill Hill at Corpus Christi.

The oversight of the actors was, as pointed out in the last chapter, an important element in the civic control of the craft-plays. The mention at York of a commission of ‘connyng, discrete and able players’ must not be taken to imply that these were in any sense professionals. All the actors received fees, on a scale proportionate to the dignity of their parts. Thus at Coventry one Fawston got 4d. ‘for hangyng Judas,’ and 4d. more ‘for coc croyng.’ The payment to the performer of God was 3s. 4d. A ‘sowle,’ whether ‘savyd’ or ‘dampnyd,’ got 20d., and a ‘worme of conscyence’ only 8d. At Hull, Noah was generally paid 1s., God and Noah’s wife a trifle less. But there is nothing to show that the performers were drawn from the minstrel class: they were probably, like ‘joly Absolon,’ members of the guilds undertaking the plays. The Chester men describe themselves in their banns as not ‘playeres of price’ but ‘Craftes men and meane men.’ The epilogue to the Conversion of St. Paul in the Digby manuscript similarly deprecates unkindly criticism of folk ‘lackyng lytturall scyens ... that of Retoryk haue non intellygens.’ A characteristic of the acting which greatly impressed the imagination of the audience seems to have been the rant and bombast put from very early times in the mouths of such royal or pseudo-royal personages as Herod and Pilate.⁠[404] In the Chester plays fragments of French, as in a liturgical play fragments of gibberish⁠[405], are used to enhance this effect. In the Cornish plays, as in the modern music hall, each performer at his first appearance displays himself in a preliminary strut about the stage. Hic pompabit Abraham, or Moses, or David, say the stage directions. As is usually the case with amateurs, the function of the prompter became an exceedingly important one. If the Cornish writer Richard Carew may be trusted, the local players did not learn their parts at all, but simply repeated them aloud after the whispers of the ‘ordinary⁠[406].’ Probably this was exceptional; it certainly was not the practice at Beverley, where there is a record of an actor being fined quod nesciebat ludum suum. But it may be taken for granted that the ‘beryng of the boke,’ which is so frequently paid for in the accounts, was never a sinecure. Another functionary who occasionally appears is the stage-manager. In the later Cornish plays he is called the ‘conveyour.’ The great Chelmsford performance of 1562 was superintended by one Burles who was paid, with others, for ‘suing’ it, and who probably came from a distance, as he and his boy were boarded for three weeks.

The professional assistance of the minstrels, although not called in for the acting, was welcome for the music. This was a usual and a considerable item in the expenses. At the Chelmsford performance just mentioned the waits of Bristol and no less than forty other minstrels were employed. There is no sign of a musical accompaniment to the dialogue of the existing plays, which was spoken, and not, like that of their liturgical forerunners, chanted. But the York and Coventry texts contain some noted songs, and several plays have invitations to the minstrels to strike up at the conclusion or between the scenes. Minstrels are also found accompanying the proclaimers of the banns or preliminary announcements of plays. These banns seem to have been versified, like the plays themselves. They are often mentioned, and several copies exist. Those of Chester were proclaimed by the city crier on St. George’s day; those of the Croxton play and the Ludus Coventriae were carried round the country-side by vexillatores or banner-bearers. Minstrelsy was not the only form of lighter solace provided for the spectators of the plays. Two of those in the Digby manuscript were accompanied with dances. At Bungay a ‘vyce’ was paid ‘for his pastyme before the plaie, and after the plaie.’ There were ‘vices’ too at Chelmsford, and ‘fools,’ by which is meant the same thing⁠[407], at Heybridge and New Romney. But these examples are taken from the decadence of the miracle-play, rather than from its heyday.

The accounts of the Bassingbourne play in 1511 include a payment to ‘the garnement man for garnements and propyrts and playbooks.’ This was an occasional and not an annual play, and apparently at the beginning of the sixteenth century such plays were sufficiently frequent to render the occupation of theatrical outfitter a possible one. Certainly those lucky parishes, such as Chelmsford or St. Peter’s, Oxford, which possessed a stock of ‘game gear,’ found a profit in letting it out to less favoured places. The guilds responsible for the greater plays naturally preserved their own costumes and properties from year to year, supplementing these where necessary by loans from the neighbouring gentry and clergy. The Middle Ages were not purists about anachronism, and what was good enough for an English bishop was good enough for Annas and Caiaphas. The hands of the craftsmen who acted were discreetly cased in the gloves, without which no ceremonial occasion was complete, and sometimes, at least, vizors or masks were worn. But, as a rule, the stage setting left a good deal to the imagination. The necessaries for the play of Paradise at Beverley in 1391 consisted of the ‘karre’ or pageant, eight hasps, eighteen staples, two vizors, a pair of wings for the angel, a fir-spar (the tree of knowledge), a worm (the serpent), two pairs of linen breeches, two pairs of shifts, and one sword. For a similar play the Norwich grocers possessed in 1565, besides the pageant and its fittings, sufficient ‘cotes and hosen’ for all the characters, that of the serpent being fitted with a tail, a ‘face’ and hair for the Father, hair for Adam and Eve, and—‘a Rybbe colleryd Red.’ A few other interesting details can be gathered from various records. At Canterbury the steeds of the Magi were made of hoops and laths and painted canvas. In the Doomsday scene at Coventry the ‘savyd’ and ‘dampnyd’ souls were distinguished by their white or black colour⁠[408]. The hell mouth was provided with fire, a windlass, and a barrel for the earthquake. There were also three worlds to be set afire, one, it may be supposed, at each station. The stage directions to Jordan’s Cornish Creation of the World are full of curious information. The Father appears in a cloud and when he speaks out of heaven, ‘let ye levys open.’ Lucifer goes down to hell ‘apareled fowle wᵗʰ fyre about hem’ and the plain is filled with ‘every degre of devylls of lether and spirytis on cordis.’ In Paradise a fountain and ‘fyne flowers’ suddenly spring up, and a little later ‘let fyshe of dyuers sortis apeare & serten beastis.’ Lucifer becomes ‘a fyne serpent made wᵗʰ a virgyn face & yolowe heare upon her head.’ Adam and Eve departing from Paradise ‘shewe a spyndell and a dystaff.’ For the murder of Abel, according to old tradition, a ‘chawbone’ is needed⁠[409], and for the ark, timber and tools, including ‘a mallet, a calkyn yren, ropes, masstes, pyche and tarr.’ I have not space to dwell further on these archaeological minutiae. One point, however, seems to deserve another word. Many writers have followed Warton in asserting that Adam and Eve were represented on the stage in actual nakedness⁠[410]. The statement is chiefly based upon a too literal interpretation of the stage directions of the Chester plays⁠[411]. There is a fine a priori improbability about it, and as a matter of fact there can be very little doubt that the parts were played, as they would have been on any other stage in any other period of the world’s history, except possibly at the Roman Floralia⁠[412], in fleshings. Jordan is quite explicit. Adam and Eve are to be ‘aparlet in whytt lether,’ and although Jordan’s play is a late one, I think it may be taken for granted that white leather was sufficient to meet the exigencies even of mediaeval realism.

The accounts of miracle-plays frequently contain entries of payments for providing copies of the text used. When the stock of the Chelmsford play was dispersed in 1574, the copies were valued at £4. Such copies were naturally of more than one kind. There was the authoritative text kept for reference by the guild or other body of presenters. This is sometimes called the ‘play-book’ or ‘game-book.’ The Cornish term is ordinale, a derivative from the ordo of the liturgical drama⁠[413]. That in use elsewhere is more commonly ‘original,’ which appears in a variety of quaint spellings⁠[414]. In the great towns where plays were given by the crafts under the general supervision of the corporation, each craft held the ‘original’ of its own play, but approved transcripts of these were also in the hands of the corporation officers. At Chester this transcript was itself called the ‘original’; at York it was the registrum. Most of the extant manuscripts of plays appear to be of the nature of ‘originals.’ From York and probably from Wakefield we have registra. The Chester texts are, however, late transcripts due to the zeal of local antiquaries, perhaps in view of some frustrated revival. Specimens exist also of two other kinds of copy. There are single plays from both Chester and York which have all the appearance of having been folded up for the pocket of a prompter. And the nature of the ‘parts’ prepared for individual actors may be seen from the transition example edited by Professor Skeat from a manuscript found at Shrewsbury. They contained the actors’ own speeches, with the ‘cues’ or closing words of the preceding speeches which signalled to him that his turn was at hand⁠[415].

Indications of the authorship of plays are very scanty. John Bale has preserved a list of his own plays, some at least of which were acted in mediaeval fashion. It may perhaps be assumed that Nicholas Udall, afterwards author of Ralph Roister Doister, wrote the play performed at Braintree in 1534, while he was vicar there. At Bassingbourne in 1511 one John Hobarde, ‘brotherhood priest,’ was paid ‘for the play-book.’ In this and in several of the following cases it is impossible to determine whether an author or merely a copying scribe is in question. The corporation of Beverley employed Master Thomas Bynham, a friar preacher, to write ‘banis’ for their plays in 1423. At Reading we find Mr. Laborne ‘reforming’ the Resurrection play about 1533. The later Cornish play of the Creation of the World was ‘wryten’ by William Jordan in 1611, and that of St. Meriasek by ‘dominus Hadton’ in 1504. At Bungay William Ellys was paid in 1558 ‘for the interlude and game-book⁠[416],’ and Stephen Prewett, a priest at Norwich, for some labour about the matter of a game-book in 1526. This same Stephen Prewett had a fee from the Norwich grocers ‘for makyng of a new ballet’ in 1534. One of the extant Coventry plays was ‘nevly correcte’ and the other ‘nevly translate’ by Robert Croo in 1535. The name ‘Thomas Mawdycke’ and the date 1591 are written at the head of some songs belonging to the former. In 1566 Thomas Nycles set a song for the drapers. Robert Croo or Crowe seems to have made himself generally useful in connexion with the Coventry plays. In 1563 the smiths paid him for ‘ij leves of our pley boke.’ In 1557 he wrote the ‘boke’ for the drapers, and between 1556 and 1562 further assisted them by playing God, mending the ‘devell’s cottes,’ and supplying ‘iij worldys’ for burning and a hat for the Pharisee. A later Coventry playwright was John Smith of St. John’s College, Oxford, who wrote the ‘new play’ of the Destruction of Jerusalem in 1584 for a sum of £13 6s. 8d. The fifteenth-century Croxton play has the initials ‘R. C.’ One of the plays in the Digby manuscript ‘Ihon Parfre ded wryte.’ The three others have the initials ‘M. B.,’ and against the Poeta of the prologue to one of them a later hand has written in the margin ‘Myles Blomfylde.’ I repeat the caution that some at least of these names may be those of mere copyists. Miles Blomfield has been identified with a monk of Bury of that name. As he was born in 1525 he obviously was not the original author of the Digby plays, which are probably of the fifteenth century. A much greater monk of Bury, John Lydgate, has been claimed as the author of the Ludus Coventriae, but there does not seem to be any real evidence for this⁠[417]. On the other hand I see no reason to doubt the old Chester tradition which connects the plays of that city with the name of Randulph Higden, author of the Polychronicon. The story is very fairly coherent, and the date (1328) which it assigns for the plays falls within the period of Higden’s monastic life at St. Werburgh’s abbey.

It must, of course, be borne in mind that the notion of authorship is only imperfectly applicable to the miracle-plays. The task of the playwrights was one less of original composition than of adaptation, of rewriting and rearranging existing texts so as to meet the needs of the particular performances in which they were interested. Obviously this was a process that could be carried out with more or with less individuality. There were slavish adapters and there were liberal adapters. But on the whole the literary problem of the plays lies in tracing the evolution of a form rather than in appreciating individual work. Even when written, the plays, if periodically performed, were subject to frequent revision, motived partly by the literary instinct for furbishing up, partly by changing conditions, such as the existence of a varying number of craft-guilds ready to undertake the responsibility for a scene⁠[418]. Further alterations, on theological rather than literary grounds, were naturally called for at the Reformation. Thus Jordan’s Cornish Creation of the World is clearly based upon the older play printed by Mr. Norris. The book of the Norwich grocers contains two versions of their play of Paradise, the later of which, ‘newely renvid accordynge unto yᵉ Skrypture,’ was substituted for the earlier in 1565. The Towneley manuscript has two alternative versions of the Pastores. That of York has a fragmentary second version of the Coronation of the Virgin, and when read with the records affords much evidence of the dropping, insertion, and rearrangement of scenes, and of doctrinal revision during the sixteenth century. At Coventry the local annals mention ‘new playes’ in 1520, fifteen years before the existing texts were ‘nevly correcte’ and ‘translate’ by Robert Crowe.

The determination of the relations in which the plays stand towards one another is a field in which literary scholars, delayed by the want of trustworthy critical texts, are only just beginning to set foot. The question lies outside the scope of these pages. But I may call attention to Mr. Pollard’s analysis of the various strata in the Towneley plays⁠[419], and to the studies by Professor Hohlfeld⁠[420] and Professor Davidson⁠[421] upon the greater cycles in general and especially upon the influence exercised by York over the Towneley and other plays, as excellent examples of what may be looked for. The Ludus Coventriae will afford a good subject for investigation, when the manuscript has been properly re-edited. It is evidently a patchwork cycle, roughly put together and in parts easy to break up into its constituent elements. The problem is not confined to English literature. The Chester tradition represents Higden’s work as an affair rather of translation than of anything else. It is not quite clear whether translation from the Latin or from the Norman-French is intended. In any case it is probable that the earlier English playwrights made use of French models, and certain parallels have already been traced between English plays and others to be found in the French collection known as the Viel Testament. Here, as elsewhere, the international solidarity of mediaeval literature is to be taken into account.

Two chapters back I defined the change which took place in the character of the religious drama of western Europe during the thirteenth century as being, to a large extent, a process of secularization. ‘Out of the hands of the clergy,’ I said, ‘in their naves and choirs, the drama passed to those of the laity in their market-places and guild-halls.’ And I pointed to the natural result of these altered conditions in ‘the reaction of the temper of the folk upon the handling of the plays, the broadening of their human as distinct from their religious aspect⁠[422].’ A study of the texts and records of the fully developed miracle-play as it existed in these islands from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century can only confirm this view. I have indeed shown, I hope, in the course of this imperfect summary, that the variety of mediaeval theatrical organization was somewhat greater than a too exclusive attention to the craft-cycles of the great towns has always allowed scholars to recognize. But, with all qualifications and exceptions, it is none the less true that what began as a mere spectacle, devised by ecclesiastics for the edification of the laity, came in time to appeal to a deep-rooted native instinct of drama in the folk and to continue as an essentially popular thing, a ludus maintained by the people itself for its own inexhaustible wonder and delight⁠[423]. Literary critics have laid stress upon the emergence of the rude humour of the folk, with its love of farce and realism, in somewhat quaint juxtaposition to the general subject-matter of the plays. I only desire to add here that the instinct which made the miracle-plays a joy to the mediaeval burgher is the same instinct which the more primitive peasant satisfied in a score of modes of rudimentary folk-drama⁠[424]. The popularity and elaboration of the devil scenes in the plays is the most striking manifestation of this identity⁠[425]. For your horned and blackened devil is the same personage, with the same vague tradition of the ancient heathen festival about him, whether he riots it through the cathedral aisles in the Feast of Fools, or hales the Fathers to limbo and harries the forward spectators in the market-place of Beverley or Wakefield.

One must not look for absolute breaches of continuity, even in a literary evolution. That the liturgical types of religious drama continued to exist side by side with their popular offshoots, that here the clergy continued to present plays, and in spite of a certain adverse current of ascetic feeling, to assist the lay guilds in divers ways, has already been there shown. It is to be added that the texts of the plays bear traces to the end of their liturgical origin. The music used is reminiscent of church melodies⁠[426]. The dialogue at critical moments follows the traditional lines and occasionally even reverts to the actual Latin of the repraesentationes. More than one play—the Towneley Iuditium, the Croxton Sacrament, the Digby St. Mary Magdalen—closes with the Te Deum which habitually ended Matins when the dramatic interpolation of the office was over. And what are the Expositor of the Ludus Coventriae, the Doctor of the Brome play, or even Balaeus Prolocutor himself, but the lineal descendants, through the dramatized St. Augustine, of certain German plays and the appellatores or vocatores of the Prophetae, of the priest who read the pseudo-Augustinian Christmas lectio from which the Prophetae sprang? Survivals such as these impress upon the student the unity of the whole religious drama of the Middle Ages, from trope to Corpus Christi cycle.