THE DRAMA.
[Sidenote: Origins of Drama.]
The origins of the drama in France, like most other points affecting
mediaeval literature, have been made the subject of a good deal of
dispute. It has been attempted, on the one hand, to father the mysteries
and miracle-plays of the twelfth and later centuries on the classical
drama, traditions of which are supposed to have been preserved in the
monasteries and other homes of learning. On the other hand, a more
probable and historical source has been found in the ceremonies and
liturgies of the Church, which in themselves possess a considerable
dramatic element, and which, as we shall see, were early adapted to
still more definitely dramatic purposes. Disputes of this kind, if not
exactly otiose, are not suited to these pages; and it is sufficient to
say that while Plautus and Terence at least retained a considerable hold
on mediaeval students, the natural tendencies to dramatic representation
which exist in almost every people, assisted by the stimulus of
ecclesiastical traditions, ceremonies, and festivals, are probably
sufficient to account for the beginnings of dramatic literature in
France.
[Sidenote: Earliest Vernacular Dramatic Forms.]
[Sidenote: Mysteries and Miracles.]
[Sidenote: Miracles de la Vierge.]
It so happens too that such historical evidence as we have entirely
bears out this supposition. The earliest compositions of a dramatic kind
that we possess in French, are arguments and scraps interpolated in
Latin liturgies of a dramatic character. Earlier still these works had
been wholly in Latin. The production called 'The Prophets of Christ' is
held to date from the eleventh century, and consists of a series of
utterances of the prophets and patriarchs, who are called upon in turn
to bear testimony in reference to the Messiah, according to a common
patristic habit. By degrees other portions of Old Testament history were
thrown into the dramatic or at least dialogic form. In the drama or
dramatic liturgy of _Daniel_, fragments of French make their appearance,
and the Mystery of _Adam_ is entirely in the vulgar tongue. Both these
belong to the twelfth century, and the latter appears to have been not
merely a part of the church services, but to have been independently
performed outside the church walls. It is accompanied by full directions
in Latin for the decoration and arrangement of stage and scenes. Another
important instance, already mentioned, of somewhat dubious age, but
certainly very early, is the Mystery of _The Ten Virgins_. This is not
wholly in French, but contains some speeches in a Romance dialect. These
three dramas, _Daniel_, _Adam_, and _The Ten Virgins_, are the most
ancient specimens of their kind, which, from the thirteenth century
onward, becomes very numerous and important. By degrees a distinction
was established between mystery and miracle-plays, the former being for
the most part taken from the sacred Scriptures, the latter from legends
and lives of the Saints and of the Virgin. Early and interesting
specimens of the miracle are to be found in the _Theophile_ of
Ruteboeuf and in the _Saint Nicholas_ of Jean Bodel d'Arras, both
belonging to the same (thirteenth) century[120]. But the most remarkable
examples of the miracle-play are to be found in a manuscript which
contains forty miracles of the Virgin, dating from the fourteenth
century. Selections from these have been published at different times,
and the whole is now in course of publication by the Old French Text
Society[121]. As the miracles were mostly concerned with isolated
legends, they did not lend themselves to great prolixity, and it is rare
to find them exceed 2000 lines. Their versification is at first somewhat
licentious, but by degrees they settled down into more or less regular
employment of the octosyllabic couplet. Both in them and in the
mysteries the curious mixture of pathos and solemnity on the one side,
with farcical ribaldry on the other, which is characteristic of
mediaeval times, early becomes apparent. The mysteries, however, as they
became more and more a favourite employment of the time, increased and
grew in length. The narrative of the Scriptures being more or less
continuous, it was natural that the small dramas on separate subjects
should by degrees be attracted to one another and be merged in larger
wholes. It was another marked characteristic of mediaeval times that all
literary work should be constantly subject to _remaniement_, the facile
scribes of each day writing up the work of their predecessors to the
taste and demands of their own audience. In the case of the mysteries,
as in that of the _Chansons de Gestes_, each _remaniement_ resulted in a
lengthening of the original. It became an understood thing that a
mystery lasted several days in the representation; and in many
provincial towns regular theatres were constructed for the performances,
which remained ready for use between the various festival times. In the
form which these representations finally assumed in the fifteenth
century, they not only required elaborate scenery and properties, but
also in many cases a very large troop of performers. It is from this
century that most of the mysteries we possess date, and they are all
characterised by enormous length. The two most famous of these are the
_Passion_[122] of Arnould Greban, and the _Viel Testament_[123], due to
no certain author. The _Passion_, as originally written in the middle of
the fifteenth century, consisted of some 25,000 lines, and thirty or
forty years later it was nearly doubled in length by the alterations of
Jean Michel. The _Mystere du Viel Testament_, of which no manuscript is
now known, but which was printed in the last year of the fifteenth
century, is now being reprinted, and extends to nearly 50,000 verses.
Additions even to this are spoken of; and Michel's _Passion_,
supplemented by a _Resurrection_, extended to nearly 70,000 lines, which
vast total is believed to have been frequently acted as a whole. In such
a case the space of weeks rather than days, which is said to have been
sometimes occupied in the performance of a mystery, cannot be thought
excessive.
[Sidenote: Heterogeneous Character of Mysteries.]
The enormous length of the larger mysteries makes analysis of any one of
them impossible; but as an instance of the curious comedy which is
intermixed with their most serious portions, and which shocked critics
even up to our own time, we may take the scene of the Tower of Babel in
the _Mystere du Viel Testament_[124]. Here the author is not content
with describing Nimrod's act in general terms, or by the aid of the
convenient messenger; he brings the actual masons and carpenters on the
stage. _Gaste-Bois_ (Spoilwood), _Casse-Tuileau_ (Breaktile), and their
mates talk before us for nearly 200 lines, while Nimrod and others come
in from time to time and hasten on the work. The workmen are quite
outspoken on the matter. They do not altogether like the job; and one of
them says,
On ne peut en fin que faillir.
Besongnons; mais qu'on nous paie bien.
A little further on and they are actually at work. One calls for a hod
of mortar, another for his hammer. The labourers supply their wants, or
make jokes to the effect that they would rather bring them something to
drink. So it goes on, till suddenly the confusion of tongues falls upon
them, and they issue their orders in what is probably pure jargon,
though fragments of something like Italian can be made out. In the very
middle of this scene occurs a really fine and reverently written
dialogue between Justice and Mercy pleading respectively to the Divinity
for vengeance and pardon. Instances such as this abound in the
mysteries, which are sometimes avowedly interrupted in order that the
audience may be diverted by a farcical interlude.
[Sidenote: Argument of a Miracle Play.]
Of the miracles, that of _St. Guillaume du Desert_ will serve as a fair
example. It is but 1500 lines in length, yet the list of _dramatis
personae_ extends to nearly thirty, and there are at least as many
distinct scenes. William, count of Poitiers and duke of Aquitaine, has
rendered himself in many ways obnoxious to the Holy See. He has
recognised an anti-pope, has driven a bishop from his diocese for
refusing to do likewise, and has offended against morality. An embassy,
including St. Bernard, is therefore sent from Rome to warn and correct
him. William is not proof against their eloquence, and soon becomes
deeply penitent. He quits his palaces, and retires to the society of
hermits in the wilderness. These enjoin penances upon him. He is to have
a heavy hauberk immovably riveted on his bare flesh, and with sackcloth
for an overcoat to visit Rome and beg the Pope's forgiveness. He does
this, and the Pope sends him to the patriarch of Jerusalem, William
taking the additional penance as a proof of the heinousness of his sin.
After this he retires by himself into a solitary place. Here, however, a
knight of his country seeks him out, represents the anarchy into which
it has fallen in his absence, and implores him to return. But this is
not William's notion of duty. He refuses, and to be free from such
importunities in future, retires to the island of Rhodes, and there
lives in solitude. Irritated at the idea of his escaping them, Satan and
Beelzebub attack him and beat him severely; but he recovers by the
Virgin's intervention, and serves as a model to young devotees who seek
his cell, and like him become hermits. At last a chorus of saints
descends to see his godly end, which takes place in the presence of the
neophytes. The events, of which this is a very brief abstract, are all
clearly indicated in the short space of 1500 verses, many of which are
only of four syllables[125]. There is of course no attempt at drawing
any figure, except that of the saint, at full length, and this is
characteristic of the class. But as dramatised legends, for they are
little more, these miracles possess no slight merit.
The general literary peculiarities of the miracle and mystery plays do
not differ greatly from those of other compositions in verse of the same
time which have been already described. Their great fault is prolixity.
In the collection of the _Miracles de la Vierge_, the comparative
brevity of the pieces renders them easier to read than the long
compositions of the fifteenth century, and the poetical beauty of some
of the legends which they tell is sufficient to furnish them with
interest. Even in these, however, the absence of point and of dignity
in the expression frequently mars the effect; and this is still more the
case with the longer mysteries. Of these latter, however, the work of
the brothers Greban--for there were two, Arnould and Simon,
concerned--contains passages superior to the general run, and in others
lines and even scenes of merit occur.
[Sidenote: Profane Drama.]
[Sidenote: Adam de la Halle.]
Although the existence of the drama as an actual fact was for a long
time due to the performance and popularity of the mysteries and
miracles, specimens of dramatic work with purely profane subjects are to
be found at a comparatively early date. Adam de la Halle, so far as our
present information goes, has the credit of inventing two separate
styles of such composition[126]. In _Li Jus de la Feuillie_ he has left
us the earliest comedy in the vulgar tongue known; in the pastoral drama
of _Robin et Marion_ the earliest specimen of comic opera. Independently
of the improbability that the drama, once in full practice, should be
arbitrarily confined to a single class of subject, there were many germs
of dramatic composition in mediaeval literature which wanted but a
little encouragement to develop themselves. The verse dialogues and
_debats_, which both troubadours and trouveres had favoured, were in
themselves incompletely dramatic. The _pastourelles_, an extremely
favourite and fashionable class of composition, must have suggested to
others besides the Hunchback of Arras the idea of dramatising them; and
the early and strongly-marked partiality of the middle ages for pageants
and shows of all kinds could hardly fail to induce those who planned
them to intersperse dialogue.
The plot of _Robin et Marion_ is simple and in a way regular. The
ordinary incidents of a _pastourelle_, the meeting of a fair shepherdess
and a passing knight, the wooing (in this case an unsuccessful one) and
the riding away, are all there. The piece is completed by a kind of
rustic picnic, in which the neighbouring shepherds and shepherdesses
join and disport themselves. Marion is a very graceful and amiable
figure; Robin a sheepish coward, who is not in the least worthy of her.
In Adam's other and earlier drama he is by no means so partial to the
feminine sex, and his work, though equally fresh and vigorous, is more
complex and less artistically finished. It is in part autobiographic,
and introduces Adam confessing to friends with sufficient effrontery his
intention of going to Paris and deserting his wife. This part contains a
very pretty though curiously unsuitable description of the wooing, which
has such an unlucky termination. Suddenly, however, the author
introduces his father, an old citizen, who is quite ready to encourage
his son in his evil ways provided it costs him nothing, and the piece
loses all regularity of plot. Divers citizens of Arras, male and female,
are introduced with a more or less satiric intention, and the last
episode brings in the personages of Morgue la Fee and of the _mesnie_
(attendants) of a certain shadowy King Hellequin. There is a doctor,
too, whose revelations of his patients' affairs are sufficiently comic,
not to say farcical. Destitute as it is of method, and approaching more
nearly to the Fabliau than to any other division of mediaeval literature
in the coarseness of its language, the piece has great interest, not
merely because of its date and its apparent originality, but because of
numerous passages of distinct literary merit. The picture of the
neglected wife in her girlhood is inferior to nothing of the kind even
in the thirteenth century, that fertile epoch of early French poetry.
The father, too, Maitre Henri, the earliest of his kind on the modern
stage, has traits which the great comic masters would not disown.
The classes of later secular drama may be thus divided,--the monologue,
the farce, the morality, the _sotie_, the profane mystery. The first
four of these constitute one of the most interesting divisions of early
French literature; and it is to be hoped that before long easy access
will be afforded to the whole of it. The last is only interesting from
the point of view of literary history.
[Sidenote: Monologues.]
The monologue is the simplest form of dramatic composition and needs but
little notice, though it seems to have met with some favour from
playgoers of the time. By dint also of adroit changes of costume and
assistance from scenery, etc., the monologue was sometimes made more
complicated than appears at first sight possible, as for instance, in
the _Monologue du Bien et du Mal des Dames_, where the speaker plays
successively the parts of two advocates and of a judge. The monologue,
however, more often consisted in a dramatisation of the earlier _dit_,
in which some person or thing is made to declare its own attributes. Of
very similar character is the so-called _sermon joyeux_, which, however,
preserves more or less the form of an address from the pulpit, of course
travestied and applied to ludicrous subjects.
[Sidenote: Farces.]
The farce, on the other hand, is one of the most important of all
dramatic kinds in reference to French literature. It is a genuine
product of the soil, and proved the ancestor of all the best comedy of
France, on which foreign models had very little influence. Until the
discovery and acquisition by the British Museum of a unique collection
of farces the number of these compositions known to exist was not large,
and such as had been printed were difficult of access. It is still not
easy to get together a complete collection, but the reimpression of the
British Museum pieces in the _Bibliotheque Elzevirienne_[127] with M.
Ed. Fournier's _Theatre avant la Renaissance_[128] contains ample
materials for judgment. In all, we possess about a hundred farces, most
of which are probably the composition of the fifteenth century, though
it is possible that some of them may date from the end of the
fourteenth. The most famous of all early French farces, that of
_Pathelin_, belongs, it is believed, to the middle or earlier part of
the fifteenth, and speaking generally, this century is the most
productive of theatrical work, at least of such as remains to us. The
subjects of these farces are of the widest possible diversity. In their
general character they at once recall the Fabliaux, and no one who reads
many of them can doubt that the one _genre_ is the immediate successor
of the other. The farce, like the Fabliau, deals with an actual or
possible incident of ordinary life to which a comic complexion is given
by the treatment. The length of these compositions is very variable, but
the average is perhaps about five hundred lines. Their versification is
always octosyllabic and regular. But a curious peculiarity is found in
most of them as well as in a few contemporary dramas of the serious
kind. From time to time the speeches of the characters are dovetailed
into one another so as to make up the Triolet (or rondeau of eight lines
with triple repetition of the first and double repetition of the
second), a form which in the fifteenth, seventeenth, and nineteenth
centuries has been a favourite with French poets of the lighter kind.
The number of personages is never large; it sometimes falls as low as
two (in which case the farce might in strictness be called, as it
sometimes is, a _debat_ or dialogue), and rarely, if ever, rises above
four or five. From what has already been said it will be seen that it is
not easy to give any general summary of the subjects of this curious
composition. Conjugal differences of one kind and another make up a very
large part of them, but by no means the whole, and there are few aspects
of contemporary bourgeois life which do not come in for treatment. As an
example we may take the _Farce du Paste de la Tarte_[129]. The
characters are two thieves, a pastry-cook, and his wife. The farce opens
with a lamentable Triolet, in which the two thieves bewail their unhappy
state. Immediately afterwards, the pastry-cook, in front of whose shop
the scene is laid, calls to his wife and tells her that an eel-pie is to
be kept for him, and that he will send for it later, as he intends to
dine abroad. The two thieves overhear the conversation, and the token
which is to be given by the messenger, and after trying in vain to beg a
dinner, determine to filch one. Thief the second goes to the
pastry-cook's wife, gives the appointed token, and easily obtains the
pie, upon which both feast. Unluckily, however, this does not satisfy
them, and the successful thief, remembering a fine tart which he has
seen in the shop, decides that the possession of it would much improve
their dinner. He persuades his companion to try and secure it.
Meanwhile, however, the enraged pastry-cook has come home hungry and
demands his eel-pie. His wife in vain assures him that she has sent it
by the messenger who brought his token. Her husband disbelieves her;
words run high, and are followed by blows. At this juncture the first
thief appears and demands the tart, whereupon the irate pastry-cook
turns his rage upon him. The stick makes him confess the device, and
smarting under the blows, he is easily induced to make his companion a
sharer in his own sorrows. This is effected by an obvious stratagem. The
pastry-cook thus avenges himself of both his enemies, who however, with
some philosophy, console themselves with the fact that, after all, they
have had an excellent dinner without paying for it.
This piece serves as a fair example of the more miscellaneous farces, in
almost all of which the stick plays a prominent part, a part which it
may be observed retained its prominence at least till the time of
Moliere. Of the farces dealing with conjugal matters, one of the most
decent, and perhaps the most amusing of all, is the _Farce du Cuvier_,
which has nothing to do with the story under the same title which may be
found (possibly taken from Apuleius) in Boccaccio, and in the Fabliaux.
In the farce a hen-pecked husband is obliged by his wife to accept a
long list of duties which he is to perform. Soon afterwards she by
accident falls into the washing-tub, and to all her cries for help he
replies 'cela n'est point a mon rollet' (schedule). Not a few also are
directed against the clergy, and these as a rule are the most licentious
of all. It is, however, rare to find any one which is not more or less
amusing; and students of Moliere in particular will find analogies and
resemblances of the most striking kind to many of his motives. It is,
indeed, pretty certain that these pieces did not go out of fashion until
Moliere's own time. The titles of some of the early and now lost pieces
which his company for so many years played in the provinces are
immediately suggestive of the old farces to any one who knows the
latter. The farce was moreover a very far-reaching kind of composition.
As a rule the satire which it contains is directed against classes, such
as women, the clergy, pedants, and so forth, who had nothing directly to
do with politics, and it is thus, more or less directly, the ancestor of
the comedy of manners. It is never, properly speaking, political, even
indirect allusions to politics being excluded from it. It relies wholly
upon domestic and personal interests. Not a few farces, such as that of
which we have given a sketch, turn upon the same subject as the _Repues
Franches_ attributed to Villon, and deal with the ingenious methods
adopted by persons who hang loose upon society for securing their daily
bread. Others attack the fertile subject of domestic service, and
furnish not a few parallels to Swift's _Directions_. Every now and then
however we come across a farce, or at least a piece bearing the title,
in which a more allegorical style of treatment is attempted. Such is the
farce of _Folle Bobance_, in which the tendency of various classes to
loose and light living is satirised amusingly enough. A gentleman, a
merchant, a farmer, are all caught by the seductive offers of Folle
Bobance, and are not long before they repent it. Such again is the
_Farce des Theologastres_, in which the students of the Paris
theological colleges are ridiculed, the _Farce de la Pippee,_ and many
others.
[Sidenote: Moralities.]
In strictness, however, those pieces where allegorical personages make
their appearance are not farces but moralities. These compositions were
exceedingly popular in the later middle ages, and their popularity was a
natural sequence of the rage for allegorising which had made itself
evident in very early times, and had in the _Roman de la Rose_ dominated
almost all other literary tastes. The taste for personification and
abstraction has always lent itself easily enough to satire, and in the
fifteenth century pieces under the designation of moralities became very
common. We do not possess nearly as many specimens of the morality as of
the farce, but, on the other hand, the morality is often, though not
always, a much longer composition than the farce. The subjects of
moralities include not merely private vices and follies, but almost all
actual and possible defects of Church and State, and occasionally the
term is applied to pieces, the characters of which are not abstractions,
but which tell a story with a more or less moral turn. Sometimes these
pieces ran to a very great length, and one is quoted, _L'Homme Juste et
l'Homme Mondain_, which contains 36,000 lines, and must, like the longer
mysteries, have occupied days or even weeks in acting. A morality
however, on the average, consisted of about 2000 lines, and its
personages were proportionally more numerous than those of the farce.
Thus the _Moralite des Enfans de Maintenant_ contains thirteen
characters who are indifferently abstract and concrete; Maintenant,
Mignotte, Bon Advis, Instruction, Finet, Malduit, Discipline, Jabien,
Luxure, Bonte, Desespoir, Perdition, and the Fool. This list almost
sufficiently explains the plot, which simply recounts the persistence of
one child in evil and his bad end, with the repentance of the other. The
moralities have the widest diversity of subject, but most of them are
tolerably clearly explained by their titles. _La Condamnation de
Banquet_ is a rather spirited satire on gluttony and open housekeeping.
_Marchebeau_ attacks the disbanded soldiery of the middle of the
fifteenth century. _Charite_ points out the evils which have come into
the world for lack of charity. _La Moralite d'une Femme qui avait voulu
trahir la Cite de Romme_ is built on the lines of a miracle-play.
_Science et Asnerye_ is a very lively satire representing the superior
chances which the followers of _Asnerye_--ignorance--have of obtaining
benefices and posts of honour and profit as compared with those of
learning. _Mundus, caro, daemonia_, again tells its own tale. _Les
Blasphemateurs_, which is very well spoken of, but has not been
reprinted, rests on the popular legend upon which _Don Juan_ is also
based. In short, unless a complete catalogue were given, there is no
means of fully describing the numerous works of this class.
[Sidenote: Soties.]
The Sotie is a class of much more idiosyncrasy. Although we have very
few Soties (not at present more than a dozen accessible to the student),
although the contents of this class are as a rule duller even than those
of the moralities, and infinitely inferior in attraction to those of the
farces, yet the Sotie has the merit of possessing a much more distinct
and peculiar form. It is essentially political comedy, and it has the
peculiarity of being played by stock personages, like an Italian comedy
of the early kind. The Sotie, at least in its purely political form,
was, as might be expected, not very long lived. Its most celebrated
author was Gringore, and his Sotie, which forms part of _Le Jeu du
Prince des Sots et Mere Sotte_, is still the typical example of the
kind. Besides these two characters (who represent, roughly speaking, the
temporal and spiritual powers), we have in this piece, Sotte Commune,
the common people; Sotte Fiance, false confidence; Sotte Occasion, who
explains herself; and a good many other allegorical personages, such as
the Seigneur de Gayete, etc. These pieces, however, are for the most
part so entirely occasional that their chief literary interest lies in
their curious stock personages. It should, however, be observed that of
the few Soties which we possess by no means all correspond to this
description, some of them being indistinguishable from moralities. A
curious detail is that the various pieces we have been mentioning were
sometimes, in representation, combined after the fashion of a regular
tetralogy. First came a monologue or _cry_ containing a kind of
proclamation. This was followed by the Sotie itself; then followed the
morality, and lastly a farce. The work of Gringore, just noticed, forms
part of such a tetralogy.
[Sidenote: Profane Mysteries.]
The profane mysteries may be briefly despatched. They were the natural
result of the vogue of the mysteries proper, with which they vie in
prolixity. Some of them were based on history or romance, such as, for
instance, the Mystery of _Troy_. Others corresponded pretty nearly to
the history plays of our own dramatists at a later period. Such is the
Mystery of the _Siege of Orleans_ which versifies and dramatises, at a
date very shortly subsequent to the actual events, the account of them
already made public in different chronicles.
[Sidenote: Societies of Actors.]
Of considerable interest and importance in connection with these early
forms of drama is the subject of the persons and societies by whom they
were represented, a subject upon which it is necessary to say a few
words. At first, as we have seen, the actors were members or dependents
of the clergy. As the mysteries increased in bulk and demanded larger
companies, their representation fell more and more into the hands of the
laity, even women in not a few cases acting parts, though this was
rather the exception than the rule. It became not unusual for the
guilds, which play such an important part in the social history of the
middle ages, to undertake the task, and at last regular societies of
actors were formed. The most famous of these, the _Confrerie de la
Passion_ (whose first object was to play the mystery, or rather cycle of
mysteries, known by that name), was licensed in 1402, and in the course
of the fifteenth century a very large number of rival bodies were more
or less formally constituted. The clerks of the Bazoche, or Palace of
Justice, had long been dramatically inclined, but it was not till this
time that they were recognised as, so to speak, the patentees of a
peculiar form of drama which in their case was the morality. The
_Enfants sans Souci_, young men of good families in the city, devoted
themselves rather to the Sotie, and the stock personages of that curious
form correspond to the official titles of the officers of their guild.
Besides these, many other similar but less durable and regularly
constituted societies arose, whose heads took fantastic titles, such as
Empereur de Galilee, Roi de l'Epinette, Prince de l'Etrille, and so
forth. No one of these, however, attained the importance of the
Confraternity of the Passion. This was chiefly composed of tradesmen and
citizens of Paris, and for a hundred and fifty years it continued to
play for the most part mysteries, sacred and profane alike, but the
latter, according to its name and profession, less commonly. In 1548 a
curious example of the change of times and manners took place, owing in
all probability to the influence, direct or indirect, of the
Reformation. The Confraternity had its charter renewed, but it was
expressly forbidden to play the sacred dramas which it had been
originally constituted to perform. Thenceforward secular plays only were
lawful in Paris, but the older dramas continued for a long time to be
performed in the provinces, and in Britanny have been acted within the
last half century. The Confraternity became regular actors of ordinary
farces, and as time went on were known under the title of the Comedians
of the Hotel de Bourgogne, a name which brings us at once into the
presence of Moliere. In these last sentences we have a little
outstripped the mediaeval period proper, but in dramatic matters there
is no gap between the ancient and modern theatre until we arrive at the
Pleiade.
It is not very easy to illustrate the manner of the ancient French drama
by citations within ordinary compass; but the following passages, the
first from the Mystery of the _Passion_, the second from the original
form of _Pathelin_, may serve the purpose:--
_Ici deschargent Jesus de la croix._
_Simon._ or avant donc, puis que ainsi va.
je ferai vostre voulente;
mais il me poise en verite
de la honte que vous me faictes.
o Jesus, de tous les prophettes
le plus sainct et le plus begnin,
vous venes a piteuse fin,
veue vostre vie vertueeuse
quant vostre croix dure et honteuse
pour vostre mort fault que je porte.
se c'est a tort, je m'en rapporte
a ceulx qui vous ont forjuge.
_Ici charge la croix a Simon._
_Nembroth._ Messeigneurs, il est bien charge;
cheminons, depeschons la voie.
_Salmanazar._ j'ai grant desir que je le voie
fiche en ce hault tabernacle,
a scavoir s'il fera miracle,
quant il sera cloue dessus.
_Jeroboam._ seigneurs, hastes moi ce Jesus
et ces deux larrons aux coustes.
s'ilz ne vuellent, si les battez
si bien qu'il n'y ait que redire.
_Claquedent._ a cela ne tiendra pas, sire.
nos en ferons nostre povoir.
_Ici porte Simon une partie de la croix et
Jesus l'autre et le battent les sergens._
_Dieu le pere._ Pitie doit tout cueur esmouvoir
en lamenter piteusement
le martyre et le gref tourment
que Jesus, mon chier filz, endure.
il porte detresse tant dure,
que, puis que le monde dura,
homme si dure n'endura,
laquelle ne peult plus durer
sans la mort honteuse endurer,
et n'aura son sainct corps duree
tant qu'il ait la mort enduree,
il appert, car plus va durant,
et plus est tourment endurant,
sans quelque confort qui l'alege.
si convient que la mort abrege
et de l'executer s'apreste,
pour satiffaire a la requeste
de dame Justice severe,
qui pour requeste ne priere
ne veult rien de ses drois quitter.
Michel, alles donc conforter
en ceste amere passion
mon filz, plain de dilection,
qui veult dure mort en gre predre
et va sa doulce chair estrandre
ou puissant arbre de la croix.
_Sainct Michel._ pere du ciel et roi des rois,
humblement a chere assimplie
sera parfaicte et acomplie
vostre voulente juste et bonne.
_Ici descendent les anges de paradis._
* * * * *
_Path._ ce bergier ne peut nullement
respondre aux fais que l'on propose,
s'il n'a du conseil; et il n'ose
ou il ne scet en demander.
s'il vous plaisoit moy commander
que je fusse a luy, je y seroye.
_Juge._ avecques luy? je cuideroye
que ce fust trestoute froidure:
c'est peu d'acquest. _Path._ mais je vous jure
qu'aussi n'en veuil rien avoir:
pour dieu soit. or je voys scavoir
au pauvret qu'il voudra me dire,
et s'il me scaura point instruire
pour respondre aux fais de partie.
il auroit dure departie
de ce, qui ne le secourroit.
vien ca, mon amy. qui pourroit
trouver? entens. _Berg._ bee. _Path._ quel bee, dea!
par le sainct sang que dieu crea,
es tu fol? dy moy ton affaire.
_Berg._ bee. _Path._ quel bee! oys tu tes brebis braire?
c'est pour ton prouffit; entens y.
_Berg._ bee. _Path._ et dy ouy ou nenny,
c'est bien faict. dy tousjours, feras?
_Berg._ bee. _Path._ plus haut, ou tu t'en trouveras
en grans depens, ou je m'en doubte.
_Berg._ bee. _Path._ or est plus fol cil qui boute
tel fol naturel en proces.
ha, sire, renvoyez l'en a ses
brebis; il est fol de nature.
_Drapp._ est il fol? sainct sauveur d'Esture!
il est plus saige que vous n'estes.
_Path._ envoyez le garder ses bestes,
sans jour que jamais ne retourne.
que maudit soit il qui adjourne
tels folz que ne fault adjourner.
_Drapp._ et l'en fera l'en retourner
avant que je puisse estre ouy?
_Path._ m'aist dieu, puis qu'il est foul, ouy.
pour quoy ne fera? _Drapp._ he dea, sire,
au moins laissez moy avant dire
et faire mes conclusions.
ce ne sont pas abusions
que je vous dy ne mocqueries.
_Juge._ ce sont toutes tribouilleries
que de plaider a folz ne a folles.
escoutez, a moins de parolles
la court n'en sera plus tenue.
_Drapp._ s'en iront ilz sans retenue
de plus revenir? _Juge._ et quoy doncques?
_Path._ revenir? vous ne veistes oncques
plus fol ne en faict ne en response:
et cil ne vault pas mieulx une once.
tous deux sont folz et sans cervelle:
par saincte Marie la belle,
eux deux n'en ont pas un quarat[130].
FOOTNOTES:
[120] These, as well as _The Ten Virgins_ and many other pieces soon to
be mentioned, are to be found in Monmerque and Michel, _Theatre Francois
au Moyen Age_, Paris, 1874, last ed.; _Adam_, ed. Luzarches, 1854.
[121] Vols. 1-6. Paris, 1876-1881.
[122] Ed. G. Paris and G. Raynaud. Paris, 1878.
[123] Ed. J. de Rothschild. Vols. i-iii. Paris, 1878-1881.
[124] _Mystere du Viel Testament_, i. 259-272.
[125] _Miracles de la Vierge_, ii. 1-54.
[126] See Monmerque and Michel, _op. cit._
[127] _Ancien Theatre Francais_, vols. 1-3. Paris, 1854.
[128] Paris, n. d.
[129] _Ancien Theatre Francais_, ii. 64-79.
[130] A history of the mediaeval theatre has been undertaken by M. Petit
de Julleville, of which two volumes, containing an excellent account of
the Mysteries, have appeared (Paris, 1880). Information on other points
is rather scattered, but it will be found well summarised in Aubertin,
_Histoire de la Langue et de la Litterature Francaise au Moyen Age_
(Paris, 1876-8), i. 372-570. A complete collection of farces, _soties_,
etc. is hoped for from the Old French Text Society.