In 1996, R. Howard Bloch and Stephen G. Nichols edited a remarkable volume of essays called Medievalism and the Modernist Temper, in which seventeen scholars pondered, through detailed philological analysis and imaginative cultural-studies approaches, the legacy of the Middle Ages and its relevance to modern times. “WORD'S OUT,” they began, “There's something exciting going on in medieval studies, and maybe in the Renaissance too. The study of medieval literature and culture has never been more alive or at a more interesting, innovative stage.”Footnote 1 Bloch and Nichols understood, as few others, the pertinent critical stages of the interdiscipline of medieval studies. But, critically speaking, where was the stage? With the exception of Seth Lerer's terrific piece on Eric Auerbach's gender-biased editorial establishment of the text of the twelfth-century Play of Adam, theatre was nowhere to be found.Footnote 2
That was then. This is now. And “word has been out” for quite awhile. Much as, for Sue-Ellen Case, theatre studies came “‘later’ to the feminist critique than work in other genres,”Footnote 3 so too it seems that it has come later to medievalism. But has it really?
Many medievalists have been rather like Molière's Bourgeois Gentilhomme, Monsieur Jourdain, who was speaking in prose and just didn't know it: they have been practicing performance studies for decades and just don't (necessarily) know it. Back in 1903, E. K. Chambers turned to ritual and popular culture in The Mediaeval Stage, as did Johan Huizinga in Homo Ludens (1950), inspiring the later work of Lawrence Clopper and Aron Gurevich; while Gustave Cohen emerged in the 1950s as a premier historian, theorist, and practitioner of French medieval theatre.Footnote 4 In 1933, Karl Young explored the theatrical nature of ecclesiastical ritual in The Drama of the Medieval Church; in 1965, O. B. Hardison synthesized, in Christian Rite and Christian Drama in the Middle Ages, a bona fide theatre of the church in an intellectual tour de force about Darwinism; and, in 1974, Rainer Warning situated medieval drama in the theological culture of performance (although most American scholars had to wait until 2001 for the work to be translated). Anthony Kubiak's 1991 chapter on the quem quaeritis trope remains one of the most brilliant essays ever written on the medieval theatrical body.Footnote 5 Alan Knight and Gordon Kipling were among the first to turn to the theatricality of processional culture; Clifford Davidson has facilitated collaborative work for decades on a variety of pan-European spectacles; Barbara Hanawalt and Michal Kobialka went well beyond the efforts of an Elie Konigson when they brought together scholars in art history, literature, theatre, and history to consider the semiotics of medieval space; and I suppose that, back in 1992, when I turned to the “protodramatic” nature of medieval juridical culture, I too was doing performance studies.Footnote 6
Given the preliterate, largely oral/aural and visual/corporeal literary culture(s) of the European Middle Ages, medievalists have long engaged in performance studies, regardless of whether they employ that specific term. Simply put, medieval literary studies is performance studies. Romances were declaimed by jongleurs in public squares; poetry competitions were waged and won with all the “glorious exhibitionism and agonistic aspiration” that Huizinga attributed to the medieval university; musicologists like Leo Treitler have shown that medieval Latin made no terminological distinction between cantare and dicere, singing and speaking; and even Northrop Frye observed in 1957 that ritual is “the content of action and more particularly of dramatic action.”Footnote 7 Happily, a handful of specialists of medieval romance are well aware that, if much was novel in the Middle Ages, not much was novelistic. (Most teachers of medieval literature need to remind their undergraduates repeatedly that roman in Old or Middle French denoted “romance,” not “novel”). In the good old medieval sense of demonstrare—to display and to prove—Linda Marie Zaerr has been performing romance since the 1980s; and, in a series of exciting programs with a website to match, Evelyn Birge Vitz has made New York University a receptive home to medieval performance.Footnote 8 In other words, notwithstanding Brian Stock's considerable wisdom on the subject, “listening for the text” is not enough.Footnote 9 Scholars of medieval theatre and theatricality must watch for it as well. Even though Graham Runnalls wonders whether medieval audiences were listening or watching,Footnote 10 theatre demands both and more—and has done so ever since Lucian of Samosata explored the holistic nature of mimed performance in ancient Greece.Footnote 11
That task is all the more daunting in that medieval theatre studies is home to several divided populations governed by the kind of false binaries that we have grown to love to hate. Readers of Theatre Survey are all too familiar with the great Theatre versus Drama divide, so I will not rerehearse it here beyond pointing out that contemporary debates about the historiography of the theatrical archive have a different twist for medievalists: when medievalists debate the archive, we're usually sitting in an actual archive of the dusty—not the digital—variety. With explanations to follow, the critical landscape, might best be characterized like so:
1. History (or, for that matter, folklore or anthropology) versus Literature;
2. Continental versus British (with members of the latter population doubtless citing a marked preference for England over Ireland or Scotland … and, by the way, “Yes, Virginia,” it's the Middle Ages, so there is no American drama); and last, but certainly not least,
3. Religious versus Secular.
Each one of those divides reflects the medievalist politics of the 1980s and 1990s: the Old vs. the New Medievalism; the Old vs. the New Philology.Footnote 12
Why should readers of Theatre Survey care about those three trends?
Because large-scale theatricality is by no means a modern phenomenon, and medievalists have much to contribute to the larger conversation about drama as genre and theatre as medium. Only together can we understand the theatrical and prototheatrical forms that were ubiquitous in a culture that, as the historian Jacques Le Goff famously noted, displayed a widespread tendency to theatricalize itself.Footnote 13 At a minimum, we need to examine how and why that tendency is similar to and different from our own. Medieval theatre is so tricky to identify that its very name is interspersed liberally in criticism with spectacle, performance, sport, ritual, battle-play, trial, pageant, parade, procession, dance, song, and even allegory or dialogue. The twains must finally meet if we are to understand not only hundreds of critically untouched playtexts but also the arts of preaching and letter writing, the performance setting of letters of remission and royal proclamations, the agonistic public engagement of scholastic disputation, the Inns at Court, the circulation of news, the sites of sport, and so on.Footnote 14
History versus Literature
Medieval historians have been positively immersed in the study of ritual, yet the work of theatre and performance studies is, more often than not, a foreign language to them.Footnote 15 No reasonable historian would hesitate to affirm that every literary scholar has a duty to be knowledgeable about history and historiography. And yet, with few exceptions, that duty does not appear to be reciprocal enough to motivate medieval historians to be similarly knowledgeable about the insights, debates, and methodologies of literary theory and criticism. Fortunately, Carol Symes is in a class all her own. As one of the rare scholars trained in both social history and theatrical practice, she sheds new light on the rich theatrical culture of the thirteenth-century city of Arras in A Common Stage (2007).Footnote 16 Unfortunately, the norm is rather more like Sara Beam's maddening Laughing Matters (2007), a well-written study of the tradition of fifteenth-century French farce in which any potential impact on our field is considerably weakened by the author's not-so-benign neglect of reams of theatre theory and criticism on her very topic.Footnote 17 That is not to say that critical transgressions of the opposite sort are impossible. Equally maddening is the type of piece that often crossed my editor's desk at Theatre Survey in which so-called scholars apparently felt free to theorize about drama to their hearts' content, with little or no knowledge of the history, social contexts, or even the languages of their objects of inquiry.
Continental versus British
On one side of the English Channel, theory-savvy medievalists in English departments often wonder, “Just how many more analyses of the cycle plays can there be?” On the other side, medievalists in French departments, for instance, tend to opt out, leaving by the intellectual wayside literally hundreds of theatre pieces.Footnote 18 The problem? Actually, there are two of them. For one thing, there seems to be no such thing as a “medieval theatre generalist.” For another, to be blunt about it, scholars of medieval Britain have everything to say about almost nothing, whereas most continental medievalists have almost nothing to say about everything. Believe it or not, the latest critical entry is something called “the French of England,” which is part of a long-standing discussion of who claims Anglo-Norman as its own (pre)national language, France or England. Let me dispel forthwith any remaining confusion. Forgive me for using the informal tu form (and, no, I'm not saying that I'm the voice of God) but: Escote, English Studies, et entent ma raison! (“Listen, and hear my judgment!”).Footnote 19 Anglo-Norman is not the Anglo-Saxon of Beowulf; it's Old French—and we teach that language in French departments. It is difficult to frame the problem in such a way that it does not sound like scholarly turf protection, but allow me to try: Even if we hope to understand a medieval whole that is more than the sum of its parts, we still have a duty to respect the integrity of those parts. While the “French of England movement” is admirable for its comparativist spirit, it also seems to be yet another way of saying that even French studies needs to be about England!
One of the questions asked by contributors to Critical Stages is, “What are people angry about?” In medieval studies, many of us are angry about the relative tokenism associated with medieval drama on the Continent. Honestly, it is as if the Second Shepherd's Play told the whole theatrical story for the ten centuries or so that separate Saint Augustine from the Chester plays. For France, if nonspecialists have read any theatre at all, it may be the Jeu d'Adam, the Farce de Maistre Pierre Pathelin, or, oddly enough, the Jeu de la feuillée, which, before Symes, was practically incomprehensible. For Italy, we find, prior to the commedia dell'arte, almost no readily available playtexts that even rise to the status of a canon, despite a wealth of fascinating convent dramas.Footnote 20 For Germany, while the tenth-century writings of Hrotsvitha of Gandersheim have rightly attracted the attention of feminists, most theatre scholars have barely heard of the fifteenth-century pseudohistorical dramatization of the myth of Pope Joan, a masterpiece of theological strife and cross-dressing that rivals the great Roman de Silence; we owe Stephen Wright a debt of gratitude for bringing it to our attention back in 1999.Footnote 21 Meanwhile, in the secondary literatures, I rarely come across Glenn Ehrstine's Theater, Culture, and Community in Reformation Bern (2002), even though it is erudite about the medieval habits of thought that informed the theatricality and antitheatricality of the Reformation.Footnote 22 There is a rich tradition of Dutch plays that would offer intriguing insights into both the celebrated Chambers of Rhetoric and the theatricality of civic culture in general—if only others would join Wim Hüsken and Kathleen Ashley and look at them.Footnote 23 And, when it comes to the theatre of medieval Spain, one sometimes has the impression that the only extant theatrical text is the Auto de los reyes magos. Few seem familiar with Charlotte Stern's work on Castile, while a simple search for book-length studies by Jesús Francesc Massip reveals no fewer than ten single-authored, edited, or coedited books—all essentially ignored in the United States.Footnote 24
Religious versus Secular
Finally, the fragmented whole that it is medieval theatre studies is frequently inflected by a religiosity—or an antireligiosity—that one rarely sees in other literary disciplines. Although one of Hardison's singular contributions to the field was his elegant argument that religion was not antagonistic to the creative instinct,Footnote 25 nonspecialists are likely unaware that, at least anecdotally, there are two types of medievalist. One type sees the hand of God everywhere and turns, with unrivaled spiritual commitment (and as part of the exercise of personal faith), to a period that owes its very historiographical existence largely to ecclesiastical practices of preservation and transmission. I have personally witnessed responses by medievalists that range from, “Yes, when I'm at church, I too feel that. . . ,” to denial that there could have been anything remotely theatrical about even the quem quaeritis trope (which has long been acknowledged as one of many possible origins—if no longer the origin—of medieval drama).Footnote 26 Another type of medievalist seeks just as arduously to remove the hand of God from everywhere, the better to free intellectual inquiry from the perceived yoke of the Christian hegemony. Without calling upon Bill Maher's Religulous as evidence of the polarizing influence of things religious, I can offer this stunning example that compounds the “French is not French” problem (as above for the “French of England”) with “theatre is not theatre.” Consider Derek Pearsall's advance praise on the dust jacket of Sarah Beckwith's Signifying God: “She dares to say what many have thought: that the Corpus Christi plays are not ‘theatre’ but sacrament and can be understood only as theology and experienced only as religious experience.”Footnote 27 Dare I say it? On behalf of theatre historians everywhere, thanks a lot! Two recent works, however, while conservative in their critical sensibilities, are commendable for the breadth and depth of their inquiries into the theory and practice (respectively) of theological performativity: Donnalee Dox's The Idea of the Theater in Latin Christian Thought and John Parker's The Aesthetics of Antichrist.Footnote 28
• • •
Why is it so hard for medievalists to come together? Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but, when it comes to an art form that is historically, socially, theologically, philologically, paleographically, codicologically, and even musicologically contingent, most people simply don't have the time to establish the necessary competency in the tools of their trade: classical and medieval Latin, medieval vernaculars, paleography, codicology, diplomatics—and that's all before we even begin to try to situate theatrical works in their sociohistorical, theological, and performance contexts. That's also before we begin true intellectual engagement with theatre practitioners, past and present, whose training is very different from our own and from whom we have much to learn as we face the enormous historiographical challenges of reconstructing the medieval theatrical past.
Lest the reader fear, at this critical stage, that the Dark Ages are getting darker and darker by the minute, rest assured: there is intellectual hope in the chiaroscuro of art history, where such groundbreaking scholars as the late Michael Camille have been eyeing medieval performance for decades.Footnote 29 More recently, Suzannah Biernoff has analyzed the medieval gaze with a sophisticated attention to the ideology of perception and to the nascent science of optics in a book that should be required reading for anyone interested in reception theory.Footnote 30 And, whatever our critique of the limits and dangers of collecting and archiving data—both of which are well known to most medievalists thanks to Theresa Coletti's incisive critique of the REED project (Records of Early English Drama)—the most important compilation to date follows a path not seen since Chambers, Young, and the great Louis Petit de Julleville who, once upon a time, reproduced and analyzed every extant account of medieval French religious drama that he could find.Footnote 31 I refer to William Tydeman's collaborative anthology of some six hundred primary sources in English translation, spanning some thousand years of interplay among theatre, mime, music, law, ritual, religion, politics, folklore, and the beaux-arts.Footnote 32
Enter, now, onto the critical stage a handful of scholars who truly understand both theatre and the Middle Ages: the medievalists who employ, not merely metaphorically, such terms as “theatre,” “drama,” “performance,” and “theatricality”; the theatre theorists who are willing to back up their claims about “history” with some serious historiographical training; and, as always, the archive dwellers who might not always know why their finds are so interesting, but who continue no less steadfastly to expand the historical record. Carol Symes even goes so far as to suggest that the best medieval theatre scholars have been trained not in theatre but in something else.Footnote 33 Whatever medievalists' quibbles with the following titles—and we are medievalists, after all: we always have quibbles—here are five breakthrough books from the past decade, all from what one might call the American school, which tends to be more daringly theoretical and more interdisciplinary than its European counterparts: Symes, A Common Stage; Claire Sponsler, Ritual Imports; Jessica Brantley, Reading in the Wilderness; Susan Crane, The Performance of the Self; and Kobialka, This Is My Body.Footnote 34
At the risk of summing up as one-liners their complex and provocative claims into a past made present: Symes “treats all premodern texts as potential participants in a culture of performance” (2); Sponsler establishes connections between the ritual performances of medieval Europe and early America; Brantley expands—although she could have done so more generously—on the earlier work of such scholars as Paul Saenger, Thomas H. Bestul, and Sylvia HuotFootnote 35 to argue that, especially in late medieval practices of spiritual reading, “the individual's quiet encounter with the static book itself [is] a species of sacred performance” (2); Crane explores the rhetorical and theatrical functions of the textual and visual practices of medieval court culture; and Kobialka retheorizes medieval practices of representation in such a way as to resist the telos of canonical theatre history and criticism, beginning with ecclesiastical views of where, when, and how bodies were to be seen and heard (31–3).
Avant la lettre, in the most literal sense of the term, there was the medieval theatre. Ancestor? Forerunner? Precursor? Outlier? Theatrical apprentice? Prophet of modern and even postmodern performance studies? We won't know until we get our collective act together and take a closer look at all of what passes for medieval—and for theatre—then and now.
