Thursday, 17 October 2013

Urban Drama, Part 11



Domestic Crisis and Peace in the Home


Though depictions of low people and places and accounts of squabbling between husbands and wives were stock in trade of traditional satire, including the often raucous parodies of the fabliaux—middle class couples aping the love-talk and erotic intrigues of the aristocratic romances—what comes through in The Second Shepherds’ Play is a focus on the harships of the poor families out on the Moors, the tensions between husbands and wives brought about hard work, deprivation and forced labour for the absentee landlords of the south.  In one sense, these comical complaints and rough attempts to maintain peace in the family appear as continuous with the so-called gospel speech and franciscan realism developed to instruct the urban and rural poor in the basics of Christian morality, a submission to patient poverty to God and Church, and an imitation of the Holy Family iconpographically seen in the stable, creche and fearful journey from Bethlehem to Egypt.  In another sense, however, there is a rumblking of discontent that derives from the new sense of injustice and lack of sympathy from Church and State evidenced in Lollard sermons, turned to poetry in the mid-fourteenth-century Piers Plowman—Jesus and the humble clerics facing up to the hypocrisy and corruption of the princely ecclesiastical clergy. 

More than that, there is something distinctly unchristian about the way the three shepherds from Wakefield come into the open place of the stage, probably descending fropm the pageant wagon that has made its way through the streets of the town, and talk directly to each other and the crowd pressed around them : they are the men who suffer from the bad weather of the world, from the cruelty of their masters, and from the officials of church and state who neglect them against the principles of the religion that supposedly is meant to care for them in its pastoral system.  Those winter storms that assail them also suggest that nature and its creator have abandoned them to their own fate. 

But we sely shepherdes/ that walkys on the moore,
In fayth, we are nere-handys/ outt of the doore !
No wonder, as it standys,/ if we be poore,
For the tylthe of our landys/ lyys falow as the floore,
As ye ken,
We are so hamyd,
For-taxed, and ramyd,
We are mayde hand-tamyd
With thyse gentry men.[i]

To be sure, one of the ways in which these cries for aid and compassion fit within the order of feudal and clerical England is by imagining that the time of the scene presents itself before the coming of Christ, a time when the devil held sway, the Old Law proved inadequate, and there was no scheme of salvation and sacramental system to provide love to the folk.  That being the case, then these poor men standing on the rain and wind-swept moors, though they represent the three shepherds who will hear the call of the angels announcing the imminent birth of Jesus and therefore are men of Judea, in other words, Jews of the old dispensation, are also more than Christians-in-waiting : they are contemporary Yorkshiremen suffering from a government that, for all its paraphernalia of piety, is no better than a Herodian tyranny.  The Church in England lacks grace.  The King in London and his political body are no better than pagan rulers.  They occupy a land that deserved better.  Such talk, of course, is seditious and heretical.  Note here too the ironic forebodings that begin in this opening long speech by the first Shepherd :

There shall com a swane/as prowde as a po,
He must borw my wane,/ my ploghe also ;
Then I am full fane/ to graunt or he go.
Thus lyf we in payne,/ anger, and wo,
By nyght and day.
He must haue if he langyd,
If I should forgang ity.
I were better be hangyd
Then oones say hym nay.

Literally, following the letter of the text and its seeming tones of ironic resignation to the injustices of the times, the shepherd says he will always be subject to the power of the gallants who are sent to rob him of his worldly goods : the « swane » who demands to confiscate his wagon and plow cannot be resisted.  If there were resistance, the shepherd would be punished, as good as hanged for his efforts. There is no justice for the poor.  However, read in a slightly different light, the passage  begins to foretell of a different order of things.  « There shall com a swane » seems to begin to say « There will come a day when a different kind of visitor comes into the world, a representative of a higher order of Truth and Justice. »  This strange figure will overturn the current order and replace it by something else.  Then, not the lowly and ignorant countryman will be threatened by hanging if we dare to stand up for his rights and to keep possession of the implements he needs to till the soil, reap a harvest and feed his family, but another man will let himself be hanged, be crucified on a cross, in order to open the way to salvation.

Yet at this stage of history, in the fictional mystery of the play, the implications of his words are not clear to him and the gospel talk remains a vague, more than half-hidden message, which nevertheless should be grasped by an audience who are regular church-goers.  That it is not, and only gains its way towards the surface of the discourses of the players, stands as a further indictment of the failure of the local priests to instill a deep understanding of what the Incarnation means.  The great hint lies in the setting of this drama.  Always visible as the backdrop to the action that circles around the platea stands a model of the creche scene, fixed against the imposing entrance to the Cathedral : and though the occluded sight will show Mary and the Infant Jesus, along with the other objects and characters familiar to this iconic structure, for the moment—the overwhelming proportion of the time and lines devoted to the comedy of the shepherds in their miserable and foolish lives—the promise of salvation is there only in potentia.

Because the still silent voice of Christian expectation lies fallow in the soil of the text for so long, the emphasis falls on the characters, actions and speeches to present a sustained complaint of Jews in England in the fifteenth century who are themselves hidden, probably all hidden in the disguise of Christian identities—such as the friars who are responsible for keeping the words of the script up to date and relevant in each annual performance, the professional singers and dancers who who help organize the performances, and the anonymous visitors who come into Wakefield for the festival for entertainment and a chance to listen with their sensitized ears to a resonance in the performance that expresses their longing for redemption, justice and freedom to be themselves.  What they want most of all for the moment is shalom ba-bayit, peace at home: To live in harmony and love with their wives and husbands and their children.

The second shepherd comes on stage as the first finishes his long poetic speech and begins by repeating with variations the complaints of the first, this time stressing the problems within the household brought about by wives and children who suffer from poverty and neglect.  Young men are lured into marriage with promises of love and pleasure but soon learn that life is hard, women demanding and sons and daughters constantly in need of what fathers cannot bring them—food, clothing, comfort.  This litany of unhappiness comes at once closer to the standard complaint literature of the period with its misogynistic themes of women’s nagging for everything, including sexual favors, infants’ squalling and puking, and a home that is anything but pleasant to be in; and to the confusion, madness and meaningless of life without a Christian base.  At the same time, the speech comes closer to sounding explicit hints of what is to come.  God is mentioned, albeit in oaths and in empty asseverations of hopelessness, and there is reference to “as euer red I pystill”—indicating that the speaker has enough literacy to read the Epistle, meaning by metonymy the whole of the New Testament, although in the context of the fiction it can also be taken to refer to the Hebrew Bible, with its prophetic promises of a messianic time to come. 

It is important to remember that for Crypto-Jews and Marranos (they are not the same, to be sure), the main object of their presence in such performances and in the textualized expressions found in the script is not to be recognized, not even to be suspected.  Yet as we look backwards through the lens of history, not least our own experiences of the Holocaust in the mid-twentieth century, our eyes and ears attuned to the lies and distortions of anti-Semitism, we cannot but drawn towards to the conjunction of factors: first, and most obviously, the strong emphasis on the pre-Christmas events in the play, that is, the fact that barely one seventh of the whole text deals with the appearance of the angels to the shepherds and then their appearance before Mary and her child; second, the nature of the things that are wrong with the world that cries out for a messianic figure, such as natural disasters, mismagement and corruption in both Church and State, and disharmony between members of the same family, their neighbors and strangers, like Mak and his wife Gillian, who also live on the moors. We shall also see that in Mak the sheep-thief there is a strange, mystical, almost kabbalistical language that makes him more than just a northern (Scottish) invader; but someone who both is excluded from the new, rising dispensation of Jesus incarnation and excludes himself and his family from participation in the church’s body of Christ.

Recognizing these aspects of the play require us to develop a new way of seeing medieval drama, just as it makes it necessary to recognize that there were people involved in the production and reception of these plays who saw the world differently from most of their fellows in Wakefield and its surroundings.  To see the world differently moreover does not only mean that they had alternative interpretations of words, images, and gestures, that is, gave them new and other meanings; but that they actually saw differently, saw different things in the world, as they heard other resonances and imp;lications in the words, and valued thew action of the players in different ways.




[i] “The [Second] Shepherds’ Play”, Townley Plays in Joseph Quincy Adams, ed., Chief Pre-Shakespeareean Dramas: A Selection of Plays Illustrating the History of the English Drama from its Origins down to Shakespeare (Cambridge: Houghton Mifflin Co./The Riverside Press, 1924) pp. 145-157.

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