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ILL.";'_/ TIME AND THE RELIGIOUS DRAMA: AN INVESTIGATION INTO THE FORMAL DRAMATIC STRUCTURE OF TWELVE PASSION PLAYS OF THE MIDDLE AGES Volume II by John Willis Arnold A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of German and Russian 1977 CHAPTER VII Group III (1340-1520) Chester, Towneley, Greban's MistEre, Donaueschingen, Alsfeld Any investigation into the structure of medieval drama would be incomplete without at least a cursory glance at portions of the English cycle plays and the continental culminations of the Passion tradition of the late Middle Ages. Whereas cultural and religious attitudes have undergone substantial alteration in the centuries separating, for example, Mbntecassino from Mistére, we will need to expand our awareness of changes in stagecraft which accompany it. With justification more emphasis will be laid upon aesthetic considerations of performance, for, as Passion presentations move out of the realm of pure commemoration into one stressing not only intensified emotional experience but also sermonizing, the plays become not solely religious, but more profoundly aesthetic experiences.1 They take on structures which do not always rest with traditional material; the artistic capabilities of each artist increasingly influences the final product. The reason may be found in audience reaction to the plays: they have gradually come to expect more from theatrical performances than strictly ritualistic restatements of ultimate truths. Even in the instance of AZsféZd, a play projecting spiritual overtones derived from tradition and ritual, spectators' demands must be accommodated. This calls for novel characters, such as humanized devils, a rationalized and believable Judas, and a Crucifixion wherein figures not only speak or remark on the incident, but participate more actively than before.2 The investigation into motivational factors plays a dominant role in Group III, for as Froning has noted, the elongation of episodes is not only designed to accommodate 332 333 the actions of characters, but to look intensely at why they act as well.3 When the religious environment into which Group III fits is con— sidered, one discovers many facts which cast light upon its structure. In most instances the salient spiritual developments can be discerned in infant form in prior Passions. The demand for greatly rationalized stage personalities, for example, was seen to define much of the dynamics of Group II plays, such as Palat, Wien, and Autun B and Autun B. Group III Passions extend this desire to a higher level and consequently increase their length and breadth. But we must look more thoroughly at the general tenor of the times to truly appreciate its organizational impact. Attention to Christ's travails for mankind, long the subject of devotion in earlier years, becomes so profound as to assume the status of a cult. Indeed, one finds almost every detail of His torment at the fecal point of canonical hours of the day or affiliated in devotion- al books with days of the week.4 In English lyrics of the time even the instruments of the Lord's martyrdom assume the garb of pious devotion.S The IMago Pietatis, a popular lyrical device of the late medieval period,6 had already been applied to drama, as seen in Autun 8.7 It is recalled that the monolog of Christ the Wounded, addressed in dramatic presentations directly to spectators of medieval times, is divested of any hint of a historical or contextual tempus, thereby adopting the force of timelessness. Thus freed from all temporal limita- tion, the image and attendant monolog assumed a meditative,8 hence didactic quality not seen in previous Passions. In his introduttion to the Third Day of playing, Gréban addresses himself to the stage as a mirror of human activity, stressing the opportunity to learn from 334 theatrical performance: Ainsi va son veil moderant en ce miroir considerant ou tout cueur pour son dueil mirer se dbit dbuleement remirer; et affin que vous y mirez et humblement la remirez, ce devost miroir pour le mieulx vous ramenons devant les yeulx sensiblement par parsonnages: mirez, vous, si serez bien sages: chacun sa fbrme y entrevoit; qui bien se mire, bien se volt. (Mistere 19989-20000) When we investigate the highly lyrical meditations on stage of Jesus, as He points to His wounds and the instruments which inflicted them, we discover a capacity to elicitirrationaland lyrical experiences and emotions rather than those derived from dramatic attitudes. Such a temporal interruption occurs twice in waneleyi the first instance may . . . 9 . . . be found at the Cruc1f1x10n, while the second is encountered 1n the form of a 'dolorous complaint' in the Resurrection play,10 Since both examples greatly affect the straightforward unrolling of the tale on stage, we shall benefit by a closer reading of them at a later, more appropriate time. Yet another application of lyrical convention finds its way into Passions from poetry: the figure of Christ as knight and lever. A particularly striking usage is seen again in Towneley, where Jesus is told by the First Torturer: Ye must Iust in tornamente (Taun'zeley XXIII 92), Far we shall sett the in thy saddle ffbr fallyng be thou bold; I hete the wele thou bydys a shaft (Tawneley XXIII 103n5), And we shall se how he can ryde (Tawneley XXIII 111), 335 Sir, commys heder and'haue dbne, And wyn apon youre palfray sone (Towneley XXIII 113-14). all allusions to Christ's imminent pain on the Reed. Derived from nuptial imagery of the Old Testament where Israel became a harlot and God vowed to win her back, in Christian times reconciled by the Passion,11 and later allied with conventional themes from medieval romance, the figure of Christ the knight-lover was a logi— cal extention of a suffering Savior, hung bleeding on the Cross. Several images which make their way into Passion performances in the fifteenth century share a characteristic often seen in poetry of the Passion, as Woolf explains: The elements of shock and surprise do not . . . derive from the invention of a startling and hitherto unthought-of term of comparison, but from the choosing of some ancient and well-established similitude, and then pressing every pos- sible detail into the comparison.12 With its intention defined more and more in terms of edification and didacticism, the late medieval play sought to more closely simulate the human experience than seen in Group II. This alteration becomes manifest in the suppression of symbolic meaning in favor of a contem- porary will of expression,13 a desire for still more detail, representa- tiOn of every possible episode to its fullest,14 and the penetrating investigation of purely religious scenes.15 One can offer as examples the extensive inquiry of Gréban into the Last Supper and the Crucifixion, and the Flagellation sequence of Tawneley. AZsféZd takes the invest- igation a step further by including an extensive play of John the Baptist, not an uncommon story in itself, but one of even greater structural and dramatic import when allied to the Passion of Jesus Christ. 336 When we search medieval culture for possible explanations for what to us often appears a cruel delight in attending to detail, to portray- ing events like the Crucifixion, the Flagellation, and the Way of the Cross in Group III plays with a crude flair for expression and a devilish delight in revealing the darker side of man's nature, we find that some of the same religious writings we have seen before lay open for con- sideration: certainly the Meditationes of John of Caulibus, the Dialogue S. Anselmi of Psuedo-Anselm, with their reflections on the events at the Skull, cast their collective shadow over literary deliberations well into the fifteenth century. With great intensity preachers of the fourteenth century addressed themselves to the Passion of Our Lord, employing language which in spirit and emotion set the tone for plays of the following century. Listen to the words of an English man of the pulpit: He was betun and buffetid, scorned and scourgid, that unnethis was ther left ony hoole platte of his skyn, fro the top to the too, that a man myste have sette in the point of a nedil. But 31 his bodi rane out as a strem of blood. He was crowned with a crowne of thornes for dispite. And whanne the crowne, as clerkis seien, wolde not stik fast and iust doun on his heed for the longe thornes and stronge, thei toke staves and betun it down, til the thornes thrilliden the brayne panne. He was naylyd hond and foot with scharp nailis and ruggid, for his peyne shulde be the more; and so, at the last, he sufferid most paynful deeth, hanging ful schemfulli on the cros. There may be found, however, a third, and not unimportant tradition of the medieval church in operation in these late plays. F.P. Pickering is one of the few scholars to investigate the influence of exegesis on Gothic 'realism' or the rationalization of ancient attitudes in Christian art and drama at the close of the Middle Ages. He has made some remark- able findings in the process, one of which I mentioned in the initial pages of this study. Time, the bane of all scholarship, has long ago 337 obscured many of the most important events culminating in details of Group III Crucifixions: The reality of the Crucifixion is a painfully reconstructed 'historical' reality which the Christian world owes to the biblical researches of the Fathers of the Church. Its only source is the Bible, but the Bible interpreted in a way which has passed more or less entirely out of use since the Re- formation and Counter-Reformation.1 In a lengthy, elaborate, and impressively cogent presentation, Pickering depicts the most shocking and horrifying particulars of 'Gothic' crucifixions as resting on a long tradition of exegesis bent upon the task of discovering and rationalizing all events in Christ's life with Old Testament prophecies, or as reported in Luke xxiv: 44: "Neeesse est impleri omnia quae soripta sunt in lege Mbyse, et prophetis, et psalmis de me." Influential mystics lent their visions to a rapidly increasing ."18 store of "indignities and brutalities however described , for each attempted to widen the epithet. 'no one can describe the sufferings of our Lord" into concrete images for devotion. In plays of the late medieval period, Mfistere sees fit to institutionalize the elongation needed to realize these words, for as l'acteur reports in preparation for the third day of playing: et tant de hontes y (dans la maisoh d'Anne) souffry qu'il n'est pas en humaine bouche que l'offence totalle touche. (Mistére 19938-40) Although more complicated than the statement suggests, Pickering attributes much of the iconography of the Crucifixion in late medieval times, and not incidently of the Passion plays of the same period, to two main sources, Psalms xxi and lvi (the Good Friday and Easter Psalms ).19 This is, of course, only the tip of the iceberg, and as contexts warrant and examples allow, I shall return to this scholar's remarkable suggestions. 338 During the course of prior decades influential voices in religious thought also tackled the problem of man in the world. Previously accepted definitions of human life, its meaning and eventual goal, did not escape scrutiny and restatement. In spite of the continued desire to experience the Passion in all its emotive power, the character of the religious body, that is, the Church, had reacted to long—building pressures. The Corpus Christi Mysticum, the religious group, seen for so many centuries as the mystical Body of Christ, united by the Mass, had undergone a gradual process of fractionalization, the result of which reduced the congre— gation to a group of individuals, each experiencing the sufferings of Christ subjectively.20 Hartl, too, perceives an altered spectator state of mind at the core of many 'worldly' elements of late Passions. Audiences would no longer tolerate protracted hours of didactic earnest- ness, filled with 'painful truths', "sondern liebt es, entsprechend der innere Zerrissenheit der in keiner Gemeinschaft geborgenen Seele, den grausigen Ernst durch schranklose Ausgelassenheit zu Ubertgnen. . . ."21 As this observation attests, man had in past decades also begun to react to the world in a manner unlike that which had leaned on thomistic princi- ples of being, so long a part of medieval life. Instead man began to view the world not as a subject, but as an object, possessing merit of its own, quite apart from its place in the hierarchy which led towards eternity.22 Mankind became torn between living in a pleasurable world and preparing himself for a final reckoning. Earlier gradualistic con- cepts of being, with their emphasis on the transitoriness of things earthly, with their teachings that all life was but preparation for the hereafter, lost much of their intensity.23 Accompanying these changes in religious attitudes was an altered strategy for theatrical performance 339 of religious history. Something more than a desire to heighten emotional involvement in the Good Shepherd's sacrifice began to define the theater of the late Middle Ages. More emphasis was made to relate the staged reality to problems of existence in the present world. The Pilate of Towneley makes much more sense when seen in this light, as a vehicle for social comment on the ills of contemporary society. And his role as mouthpiece for the author, while especially well drawn and presented, is certainly not unique; Pilate has several excellent counterparts in other areas of medieval literature. Rosemarie Magnus has identified a clear intent to teach through the 'lively' sermon of AZserd;24 Maria Maller finds similar evidence as she addresses herself to the basic deportment of later Passions: "Die Grundhaltung dieser Spiele ist eine epische. Nicht das dramatische Miterleben des Zuschauers ist ihr Ziel, sondern seine Unterweisung und Belehrung."25 To be sure, we cannot dismiss the obvious interest for emotional reactions to the Passion in those who attend its performance; rather we must now guage the deepening rational— ization of the character in the event and the subsequent alteration of form in light of both phenomena: Seitdem innere Struktur des Buhengeschehens nicht mehr nur eine gottliche, sondern auch eine menschliche ist, laszt sich in den wirklichkeitsnahen Darstellungen die unbewuszte Befolgung gewisser dramatischer Grundsetze erkennen. Das Prinzip der grosztmoglichen Naturwahrheit tritt in den Dienst der religiosen Erbauung. It may be said in conclusion that the spectator of a late medieval play, suspended as he was between this world and the next, vacillating between the lust for life and a sincere repentance for his acts, lived in a new world where he could not always rely upon an ancient gradualistic and theocentric order of the universe. The Christian congre- gation, long seen as a mystical body of true believers, had collapsed, 340 and in its place rose a new individualism which stressed a person's care for his own salvation.27 The demands a spectator like this might have placed on the theater were more complicated than those of his predecessors. The response by playwrights also proved unique, though at times somewhat overworked by modern standards. The modes of drama- tization to which fifteenth-century Passions fell heir and which they cultivated to a degree heretofore unknown were : l) a subjective manner of religious experience, corresponding to personal necessity; 2) a 'humanization' of religious figures which reflected the character of contemporary devoutness; 3) a method of performance emphasizing 'rationalization' of character and event in service of a religious theater rich in illusion.28 Let us now place the five plays of Group III into this context by first studying their external qualities. Each play or group of plays from this group possesses a unique organization and structure, responding to different demands of performance. Chester presents the local understanding of the biblical tale as it existed in the last quarter of the fourteenth century in that particular area of England. Its structure supports a Passion section notably straight- forward in direction.29 However, to adequately comprehend Chester, we shall have to examine the phenomenon of casting, wherein one character may be portrayed by several individuals. A second factor which may bear upon its organization of time,as well as this portion of Towneley, is the effect upon the composition of the performance, and what structurally limiting effect staging on several small areas not always simultaneously observable might have on the temporal strategy of the plays themselves. It may be found, for instance, that much of what is reported in Chester 0r Towneley in the past tense, reported as having occurred, but not .341 dramatized, may indeed be a function of the stage employed in many cities in England, that of moveable wagons, or pageants, drawn up in a group or spaced singly at strategic places throughout the city. Again, with the two cycle plays one must be reminded that one is dealing not with a single, continuous performance, as has been the case in all plays investigated thus far, but rather with several related, but discrete and distinct staged entities, each with its own peculiar form inside the greater cycle organization. We find this formal division into specific plays reflected in the temporal structure of Chester XIII and XIV: With the exception of periods of inactivity between days of presentation in Mistere, Donau, and Alsfeld, each carries the action from one place to another with a minimum of temporal interruption. In Chester such is often not the case. Division into single plays,