The religion of the south of Europe is still essentially dramatic; and it
may be questioned how far this adaptation to the genius of the people has
tended to perpetuate the influence, not only of the Roman Catholic, but
also of the Greek church. Even in the pulpit, not merely does the earnest
preacher, by vehement gesticulation, by the utmost variety of pause and
intonation, _act_, as far as possible, the scenes which he describes; but
the crucifix, if the expression may be permitted, plays the principal part;
the Saviour is held forth to the multitude in the living and visible
emblem of his sufferings. The ceremonies of the Holy Week in Rome are a
most solemn, and to most minds, affecting religious drama. The oratorios,
as with us, are in general on scriptural subjects; and operas on themes of
equal sanctity are listened to without the least feeling of profanation.
Nor are the more audacious exhibitions of the dark ages by any means
exploded. Every traveller on the continent who has much curiosity, must
have witnessed, whether with devout indignation or mere astonishment, the
strange manner in which scriptural subjects are still represented by
marionnettes, by tableax parlans, or even performed by regular actors. In
the unphilosophized parts of modern Europe, these scenes are witnessed by
the populace, not merely with respect, but with profound interest; and if
they tend to perpetuate superstition, must be acknowledged likewise to
keep alive religious sentiment. But if this be the case in the nineteenth
century, how powerfully must such exhibitions have operated on the general
mind in the dark ages! The alternative lay between total ignorance and
this mode of communicating the truth. For the general mass of the clergy
were then as ignorant as the laity; and as the wild work, which in these
sacred dramas is sometimes made of the scripture history, may be supposed
to have embodied the knowledge of a whole fraternity, we may not unfairly
conjecture the kind of instruction to be obtained from each individual.
The state of language in Europe must have greatly contributed to the
adoption of public instruction, by means of dramatic representation. The
services of the church were in Latin, now become a dead language. This
_originated_, perhaps, rather in sincere reverence, and the dread of
profaning the sacred mysteries by transferring them into the vulgar tongue,
than in any systematic design of keeping the people in the dark; for, from
the gradual extinction of the Latin, as the vernacular idiom, and the
gradual growth of the modern languages, there was no marked period in
which the change might appear to be called for, until the question became
involved with weightier matters of controversy. The confusion of tongues,
almost throughout Europe, before the great predominant languages were
formed out of the conflicting dialects, must greatly have impeded the
preaching the Gospel, for which, in other respects, only a very small part
of the clergy were qualified. Though, in these times, most extraordinary
effects are attributed to the eloquence of certain preachers, for instance,
Fra. Giovanni di Vicenza, yet many of the itinerant friars, the first, we
believe, who addressed the people with great activity in the vulgar tongue,
must have been much circumscribed by the limits of their own patois.[1]
But the spectacle of the dramatic exhibitions everywhere spoke a common
language; and the dialogue, which, in parts of the Chester mysteries, is a
kind of Anglicized French, and which, even if translated into the native
tongue, was constantly interspersed with Latin, and therefore, but darkly
and imperfectly understood, was greatly assisted by the perpetual
interpretation which was presented before the eyes. The vulgar were thus
imperceptibly wrought up to profound feelings of reverence for the purity
of the Virgin; the unexampled sufferings of the Redeemer; the miraculous
powers of the apostles, and the constancy of the martyrs; we must add,
(for after all it was a strange Christianity, though in every respect the
Christianity of the age,) with the most savage detestation at the cruelty
of Herod or Pilate, and the treachery of Judas; and the most revolting
horror, at the hideous appearance, and blasphemous language of the Prince
of Darkness, who almost always played a principal part in these scriptural
dramas.--_Quarterly Review._
[1] It is related in the life of St. Bernard, that his pale and emaciated
appearance, and the animation and the fire, which seemed to kindle his
whole being as he spoke, made so deep an impression on those who could
only see him and hear his voice, that Germans, who understand not a
word of his language, were often moved to tears.--_Neander, Der
Heilige Bernard_, p. 49.
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