ST. NICHOLAS PLAYS
In our time the celebration of St. Nicholas’ day has lost much of the
ceremony that was once associated with it. Even in countries like
Belgium and Holland, where the day is a great folk festival, there is
little to connect the day with the story of the beloved bishop-saint.
“Sinterklaes” is better known than St. Nicholas. In early days the case
was different. Particularly in the centuries immediately following the
transfer of the St. Nicholas relics to Italy, the time when the vogue
of the eastern saint reached its height in the countries of western
Europe, in many ways his story was kept fresh in the popular memory.
Not only did the Boy Bishop custom commemorate, in somewhat extravagant
fashion to be sure, the elevation of the boy Nicholas to the rank of
bishop, but stories of the life of the saint formed an important part
of the _lectiones_, or “readings,” for the day in the church; and more
important still, some of the principal episodes in his life formed the
subject, in church schools, for hymns which later developed into little
plays.[69] In the election of the Boy Bishop was reenacted with a great
deal of adventitious detail one of these episodes. In more strictly
dramatic fashion were reenacted the four episodes: (1) of the maidens
saved from a life of shame; (2) the three murdered schoolboys restored
to life; (3) the kidnapped boy restored to his parents; and (4) the Jew
that put his treasures in charge of the image of St. Nicholas.
These little St. Nicholas plays have genuine significance in the early
history of the modern drama. At a time when the classical drama was
dead, when the works of Plautus and Terence were valued as repositories
of sententious expressions and their dramatic character apparently
not suspected, when the names tragedy and comedy were almost entirely
dissociated from dramatic meaning, by one of the strange ironies of
life, under the auspices of the Church, which had been hostile in its
attitude toward earlier drama, there was created, seemingly without
being realized, the germ from which developed the modern drama. The
St. Nicholas plays go back to an early stage in the new dramatic
development. Little dramatic scenes from scriptural story began to find
a place in the liturgy of the Church as early as the tenth century.
St. Nicholas plays are not much later, and are the earliest ones
handling scenes drawn from outside the biblical story. They begin not
later than the first of the twelfth century. St. Nicholas may almost
be regarded as the patron saint of the modern drama, since he seems to
have watched over its birth.
The St. Nicholas plays were represented apparently by the choir boys in
connection with the celebration of the festival of their patron saint.
The language used was Latin, of a schoolboy variety, but vernacular
elements soon began to appear. Forming, as they did, a part of the
school service, and presented, as they were, by choir boys, as might be
expected, they were for the most part sung or chanted. Their purpose to
provide entertainment and their dissociation from the older drama are
indicated by the names applied to these primitive dramas. _Miracula_
was the name given them when the subject-matter was in mind; when their
character and purpose were in mind the name applied to them in Latin
was _ludus_, in French, _jeu_. The actors at a comparatively early time
in English were called players before the word ‘play’ had yet acquired
its later definitely dramatic meaning.
The subjects from the St. Nicholas story used in these little plays
have been mentioned. One should notice what a range of interest is
comprised in these four stories. They afford opportunity for the use
of many of the cant phrases of the modern dramatic critic. There was
a melodrama of crime, a primitive detective play, with St. Nicholas
playing the part of detective in discovering the crime of the innkeeper
and his wife. There was a play dealing with the rough road to
matrimony, ending in a triple marriage, hardly surpassed in modern love
comedy. There was a sentimental comedy, with gripping heart interest,
in the story of the boy abducted and restored. There was a screaming
farce in the story of the Jew that was robbed. It should be noted, too,
that the modern “tired business man” would find the endings in all four
as happy as could be wished.
One of the early St. Nicholas plays also is of interest because it is
one of three plays composed by the earliest determinable personality
in connection with the authorship of modern drama. The name of the
author, Hilarius, seems to have been no misnomer. He was probably an
Englishman,[70] or an Anglo-Norman, who went to France to study under
Abélard. He is the author of a number of innocent love poems, playful
in tone, addressed to an English Rose and to his nun friends, Bona
and Superba. From his writings we learn that he was not only lively,
but fat. Along with a number of other students, on account of some
misbehavior, he seems to have suffered a kind of rustication and been
obliged to leave the monastery where he was studying and to take up
residence in a neighboring village. In a mock elegy he feigns despair
at being deprived of the privilege of hearing lectures. Altogether
the character of this medieval student is easy to associate with the
farcical little Latin play which he wrote, back in the twelfth century,
presenting the story of the Jew who committed his valuables to the care
of the image of St. Nicholas.
This play,[71] or operetta, for it was intended for song and chant
by the choir boys, is composed in rimed Latin stanzas, practically
impossible to reproduce in form and in spirit with any degree of
literalness in English, although Professor Gayley has accomplished the
miraculous with one or two of them.
The _dramatis personæ_ in the play are: Barbarus (a Heathen), owner of
the treasure, corresponding to the Jew in the Golden Legend version of
the story, four or six robbers, and St. Nicholas. At first the Heathen,
having assembled his treasures, approaches an image of St. Nicholas
(represented by a man standing in a shrine) and puts them in care of
the image, saying (probably in song):
“Nicolæ, quidquid possideo,
hoc in meo misi teloneo;
te custodem rebus adhibeo;
serva quæ sunt ibi:
meis, precor, attende precibus;
vide, nullus sit locus furibus!
Pretiosis aurum cum vestibus
ego trado tibi.”
The thought of which may be rendered freely:
Nicholas, all that I possess, I have put in this chest. I leave
it to you in charge; keep what is here. I pray you, listen to my
request. See to it that no thief gets in. I am putting in your
charge gold and precious raiment.
In a second like stanza Barbarus expresses the security that he feels
now that his valuables are in the charge of the image of St. Nicholas
and at the same time warns the image that there will be trouble if
anything happens to his property.
When Barbarus has gone, tramps, noticing the house open and without
guardian, carry off everything. When Barbarus returns, he finds his
treasure gone and expresses his feelings in song. His song consists of
three Latin stanzas, each with a French refrain probably joined in by
the other members of the boy choir. It begins:
“Gravis sors et dura!
Hic reliqui plura,
sed sub mala cura;
Des! quel domage!
qui pert la sue chose, purque n’enrage?”
The rime scheme of which may be reproduced something like this:
Hard luck and sad!
I left all I had,
But the care was bad.
Gad, what a shame!
If I am mad, I’m not to blame.
Two stanzas with the same refrain follow. Then Barbarus turns to the
image and lays on it the blame in two additional stanzas with the
threatening French refrain:
“Ha! Nicholax,
se ne me rent ma chose, tu ol comparras.”
(If you don’t give me back my things, I’ll make you pay for it.)
Barbarus then takes up a whip and vents his feelings in two additional
stanzas of the same sort, the form and spirit of which Professor Gayley
has admirably caught in English[72]:
By God, I swear to you
Unless you “cough up” true,
You thief, I’ll beat you blue,
I will, no fear!
So hand me back my stuff that I put here!
The amount of whipping and other stage “business” to accompany this
recitative might safely be trusted to choir boy impromptu. The Latin
text of the play at this point gives the following simple directions:
“Then St. Nicholas shall go to the thieves and say to them:”
In four Latin stanzas he tells the thieves that he has been whipped
because he cannot restore the things left in his charge, and threatens:
“Quod si non feceritis
suspensi eras eritis
crucis in patibulo;
vestra namque turpia,
vestra latrocinia,
nuntiabo populo.”
(If you don’t do this, you will be hanged to-morrow on a gibbet,
for your misdeeds and thievery, I will proclaim abroad.)
The threats have the desired effect on the thieves, who in fear return
the goods, with no accompanying words provided by the playwright.
When Barbarus finds his treasures again, in a series of three
macaronic stanzas, Latin and French, he expresses his joy and surprise,
ending with praise for the guardian:
“Quam bona custodia
jo en ai;
qua redduntur omnia!
De si grant mervegle en ai.”
(What a good watch I have had! it returns everything. I am quite
surprised.)
The alternating lines in French form a refrain in which, as in the
other songs, the other choir boys have a chance to join.
Then Barbarus approaches the image and in three like stanzas, Latin and
French, expresses his gratitude.
At this point St. Nicholas in person makes his appearance. He disclaims
any credit to himself, and bids Barbarus praise God alone, through Whom
his things have been restored.
Barbarus in reply renounces heathen faith and praises God, the maker of
heaven and earth and sea, Who has forgiven his sin.
The printed text of the little play is simple enough, but the easy
swing of the series of Latin songs and the French refrains offering
opportunity for choral participation, the beating of the image, and
the impromptu comedy “business” which choir boys might be counted on
to supply, would provide as much entertainment at a church festival
to-day as they doubtless did in the St. Nicholas’ eve celebration of
the twelfth century.
In a single manuscript there are preserved four St. Nicholas plays
of a century later. The stories presented in these plays are the
four mentioned above. The play of the abducted son of Getro may here
represent the series.
This Latin play,[73] almost entirely in rimed couplets, is more serious
in tone and in general a more elaborate production than the little
play by Hilarius. It was staged in characteristic medieval fashion,
with simultaneous set; that is to say, there were a number of prepared
stations, side by side, all visible, and the action shifted from one
station to another. A rubric in the manuscript indicates the stage
arrangement.
In order to represent how St. Nicholas freed the son of Getro from
the hands of Marmorinus, King of the Agarenes, King Marmorinus
shall appear, surrounded by armed servitors and seated on a
high seat as if in his own kingdom. In another place, shall be
represented Excoranda, the city of Getro, and in it Getro, with his
consolers, his wife Euphrosina and their son Adeodatus. East of the
city of Excoranda shall be the church of St. Nicholas in which the
boy is taken captive.
The action shifts from one of these stations to the other, all the
stations and all the characters, however, being constantly visible.
In the opening scene the servitors approach King Marmorinus, and,
“either all together, or the first one speaking for all,” say:
Hail prince, hail greatest king. Do not delay to declare thy will
to thy servants; we are ready to do what thou dost wish.
These words apparently are sung, since they are in rimed verse and
since song alone would be appropriate for speech in unison. The king
replies:
Go then, do not delay, and subject to my rule whatever people you
can; kill any that resist.
With this the action shifts to another station.
“In the meantime Getro and Euphrosina with a band of schoolboys,” the
stage directions tell us, “shall go to the church of St. Nicholas,
to celebrate his festival, and shall bring with them their son; and
when they shall see the armed servitors of the king coming there, they
shall flee to their own city, in their fright forgetting the boy. But
the servitors of the king shall seize the boy and bring him into the
presence of the king, and either the second of them or all in unison
shall say,” apparently in song:
We have done, O king, what thou didst order; we have subjected many
people to thee and of the things acquired, we are bringing to thee
this boy.
Then the third one, or all in unison, shall say:
The boy is fair of face, of active mind, and noble race; it is
fitting, in our opinion, that he enter thy service.
The king:
Praise be to Apollo who rules all, and thanks to you who have made
so many countries subject and tributary.
And then, addressing the boy:
Good boy, tell us, what is thy land, what thy race; what is the
faith of the people of thy country; are they gentile or Christian?
The boy:
My father, Getro by name, is prince of the people of Excoranda;
he worships God, who rules the seas, who made us and thee and all
things.
The king:
My god, Apollo, is the god that made me. He is true and good. He
rules the land, he reigns in the air; him alone we ought to believe
in.
The boy:
Thy god is false and evil; he is stupid, blind, deaf, and mute.
Thou shouldst not worship such a god, who cannot rule even himself.
The king:
Say not such things; do not offend my god; for if thou dost make
him angry, thou canst not in any way escape.
In the meantime, the directions tell us, Euphrosina shall discover that
her son has been forgotten and shall return to the church. And when she
shall not find the boy, she shall sing the following _Miserere_:
“Heu! heu! heu mihi miseræ!
Quid nunc agam? Quid quæm dicere?
Quo peccato merui perdere
natum meum, et ultra vivere?
Cur me pater infelix genuit?
Cur me mater infelix abluit?
Cur me nutrix lactare debuit?
Mortem mihi quare non præbuit?”
The consolers shall come to her and say:
In what way does this grieving aid? Cease to weep, and pray for thy
son to the highest Father, and he will give him aid.
Euphrosina, not heeding the words of consolation, shall continue:
Dear son, most beloved child; child, the great part of my soul; now
thou art to us the cause of sadness who wert the cause of joy.
Comforters:
Do not despair of the grace of God. He whose great mercy gave thee
this boy, will return to thee either him or another.
Euphrosina:
My soul is disturbed within me. Why should death delay? When I am
not able to see thee, my son, I prefer to die rather than to live.
Comforters:
Struggle, grief, and despair injure thee and do not profit thy
son; instead, from thy wealth give to schoolboys and to the poor.
Ask the kindness of Nicholas that he may pray for the mercy of the
Father on high for thy son, that thy prayer may not fail.
Euphrosina (praying to St. Nicholas):
Nicholas, most holy father, Nicholas most dear to God, if thou
wishest that I should worship thee longer, cause my son to return.
Thou that didst save many in the sea, and three men from the bonds
of death, listen to the prayer of me, a suppliant, and assure
me that it will be granted. I will not eat of flesh longer, nor
partake of wine, nor enjoy anything more until my son shall return.
Getro:
Dear sister, cease to mourn: thy tears avail thee nothing. But
seek the propitiation of the Father on high for our son. To-morrow
is the festival of St. Nicholas whom all Christianity ought to
worship, to venerate, to bless. Hear, then, my counsel. Let us go
to his festival. Let us praise his greatness and seek his support.
Perhaps it is an inspiration of God that admonishes me on account
of our son. With the grace of God we must pray for the great
kindness of Nicholas.
Then they shall get up and go to the church of St. Nicholas. And when
they have entered, Euphrosina shall stretch her hands out toward heaven
and say:
Highest Father, king of all kings, sole king, and sole hope of
mortals, make to be returned to us our son, the solace of our life.
Hear the prayers of us suppliant. Thou that didst send thy Son
into the world to make us citizens of Heaven, to save us from the
bars of hell. Father God, thou whose power dost supply everything
good, do not cast off me a sinner, but let me see again my son.
Nicholas, whom we call a saint, if all is true that we believe
concerning thee, let thy prayers go forth to God for us and our son.
“After these words,” the directions tell us, “she shall leave the
church and go home and there prepare a table with bread and wine for
the entertainment of schoolboys and the poor. When these have been
invited and have begun to eat, Marmorinus (at the other end of the
stage) shall say to his servitors”:
My beloved, I want to tell you that I have never in my life felt
such hunger as I have to-day. I can’t stand it. Make ready what I
ought to eat and save my life. Why delay? Go quickly, prepare at
once something for me to eat.
The servitors then shall go and bear food to the king and shall say:
We have prepared the food as thou didst command and here it is. Now
if thou dost wish, thou mayst grow fat in extinguishing thy hunger.
Then water is brought, and the king washes his hands and begins to eat
and says:
I was hungry, now I am thirsty. Bring me wine, and no delay about
it, my servant, son of Getro.
The boy, hearing this, shall sigh deeply, saying to himself:
Alas! Alas, poor me! I should like to die, for as long as I live, I
shall never be free.
The king, addressing the boy:
Why dost thou sigh so? What ails thee? What dost thou want?
The boy:
I was thinking of my misery, of my father and my native land. I
began to sigh, and said to myself, “It is a year to-day since I
entered this country, and was made a miserable slave, subject to
royal power.”
The king:
Poor wretch, why dost thou think about it? What good does thy
grieving do? None can take thee from me as long as I do not care to
lose thee.
“In the meantime,” the directions tell us, “some one in the likeness of
Nicholas shall take up the boy holding in his hand the cup with fresh
wine, and shall place him before his father’s city and, as if not
seen, shall depart. Then one of the citizens shall say to the boy”:
Boy, who art thou, and where goest thou? Who gave thee the cup with
the fresh wine?
The boy:
I am here and am not going farther. I am the only son of Getro.
Glory and praise to Nicholas whose grace brought me back here.
Then that citizen shall run to Getro and say:
Be glad, Getro. Weep no more. Outside stands thy son. Praise be to
Nicholas whose grace restored him.
“When Euphrosina hears this message, she shall run, and after kissing
and embracing her son many times, shall say”:
To our God be glory and praise. Whose great mercy, turning our
grief to joy, has released our son. To our father Nicholas be
enduring praise and thanks, whose prayer to God aided us in this
affair.
The play ends with the choral singing of the Latin hymn to St.
Nicholas, beginning with the words “_Copiosæ Caritatis_.”
* * * * *
As already remarked, these Latin plays of St. Nicholas are the
earliest plays handling subjects outside the scriptural narrative,
also one of the St. Nicholas stories is the subject of one of the
group of plays by the earliest medieval dramatist known by name. In
another way the name of St. Nicholas is associated with the beginnings
of the modern drama, in that one of the St. Nicholas stories provides
the theme for one of the earliest of plays in a vernacular tongue and
produced under secular control. The play in question is the famous
one by Jean Bodel produced at Arras in the very first years of the
thirteenth century. The time of production was probably the eve of St.
Nicholas’ day, and the producing actors were the members of a secular
fraternity of which St. Nicholas was the patron saint, possibly, Gaston
Paris[74] suggests, the famous minstrel brotherhood at Arras that had
for its palladium the famous candle, said to have set itself on the
viol of one of the brotherhood while he played before the altar.
The story told in this play is one already well known as a subject
for dramatic rendering in Latin, one of three handled by Hilarius,
the story of the image of St. Nicholas and the robbers. But in this
vernacular play St. Nicholas himself is overshadowed by the new
elements that have been joined to the story. The Jew, or pagan, of
earlier versions of the story, here appears as a Saracen king at war
with the Christians. The thieves are tavern revelers who steal in order
to pay their tavern score.
In condensed summary, following largely the summary by Creizenach,[75]
the story runs as follows:
After a prolog in which the content of the story is related, the
messenger Auberon appears and announces to the king that the Christians
have invaded his land. The king is enraged at his idol Tervagant
that this has been possible in spite of the fact that the image has
recently been richly gilded. Auberon is sent forth to summon the
emirs with their armies. There follows a scene between the Christians
and Saracens, which is imbued with all the ardor and spirit of the
crusading times. The Christians show divinely inspired bravery and
are visited by an angel which encourages them in the fight. They are
defeated in battle, but the angel announces that they have won a place
in Paradise. The Saracens find on the battlefield only one Christian
alive, and he is kneeling before an image of St. Nicholas. The man with
his image is brought before the Saracen king, who in ridicule asks what
the ugly old chap is good for. The Christian announces that the image
is excellent as a protector of treasure. The king determines to test
the image and causes his herald Connart to proclaim that the treasure
will be left open, guarded only by the image of St. Nicholas. The
Christian prisoner is given over to the hangman Durand to die if his
patron saint does not live up to his reputation.
The scene shifts to a tavern. The innkeeper has his man servant
announce that he has a fine wine for the epicure, a wine which he
describes in most eloquent fashion. The rogues assemble, and in a
drawn-out scene manifest their appreciation of the good wine, but at
the end are unable to pay their score. They determine to steal the
unguarded royal treasure, and the innkeeper agrees to receive the
stolen goods. They enter the treasure chamber, and with great labor,
which affords much comedy, get away with the heavy chest.
The theft is discovered, and the Christian prisoner is ordered to be
hanged, but gets a suspended sentence of one day, and cheered by an
angel, awaits the intervention of the saint.
The thieves, in the meantime, have brought the treasure to the tavern
and continue their revelry until they fall asleep. Hardly has sleep
overtaken them, when the saint appears and in gruff language demands
the return of the treasure, with the gallows as the alternative.
The thieves, panic-stricken, carry the treasure back. One of them
proposes that each take a handful of gold pieces, but they are too much
terrified, and in the end the ringleader must leave his mantle with the
innkeeper in settlement.
The king, delighted at the protection afforded, takes the Christian
into high favor, naturally to the disappointment of the hangman. He
also decides to abjure his old faith, and his emirs feel it their
feudal duty to follow his example, with the exception of one, who,
however, is compelled to kneel before the saint’s image. In the midst
of all this the image of Tervagant utters a frightful shriek, but
is, by command of the king, cast out of the “Synagogue” in shame and
disgrace while the Christian starts a _Te Deum_, in which the actors,
and, perhaps, the spectators, join.
In this play it will be observed that the old story is made to serve
a new purpose. St. Nicholas is made an exponent of the virtue of
Christianity as opposed to the Saracen faith. The story is developed
with much supporting detail. The struggle between Christian and Saracen
is represented with true crusading zeal, in the spirit which pervaded
the contemporary romances of Charlemagne and his paladins. On the
other hand, balancing with these scenes, noble in tone, were the low
comedy scenes provided by the tavern revelers, drinking, casting dice,
quarreling, and speaking a slang often unintelligible to the modern
reader, in general affording remarkable genre pictures of French life
in the early thirteenth century.
In his two-sided development of the dramatic values in this story,
the author established a method which one might have expected to be
followed by his contemporaries, a method actually followed, a little
later, in the development of the native English drama. In reality,
however, the play occupies a solitary position in its own day and age.
To the author must be given the credit of original creation, of being
ahead of his time. But this credit the author must share with the story
of his play, for has not the name of St. Nicholas through all the
centuries, down to our own time, been constantly associated, not only
with the idea of noble beneficence, but with a peculiar quality of good
nature and fun?