“The Harrowing of Hell” is a story based on only two short lines in the New Testament, but there was an apocryphal Gospel that fleshed the whole thing out in a dramatic way, perfect for a play. The two lines suggest (with no details or real confirmation) that Jesus descended below the ordinary level of earth, and that the dead had the Gospel preached to them. Putting it together, we assume this is what Jesus did during the 36+ hours he was dead. An apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, which includes a record supposedly written by Pontius Pilate, gives an account of the underworld supposedly told by two men who rose from the dead. They were there; they saw and heard it all. It’s this fully-dramatized version that we see in the York play produced by the Saddlers’ Guild, pretty much straight out of Nicodemus but versified with alliteration and rhyme.
Jesus opens the play, probably standing on a raised platform at one end of the pageant wagon. I quote his opening lines partly to point out the now-lost word “thole,” which meant to endure:
Manne on molde [earth], be meke to me
And have thy Maker in thi mynde,
And thynke howe I have tholid for thee
With pereles paynes for to be pyned.
The stage must have had gates across the middle, perhaps leaving Jesus only a small clear space to step down, while the rest of the stage represented Hell, the land of the underworld. There’s a curious mixture of the pagan sense of “hell,” which was a neutral land of the dead, and the Christian idea of fiends who deliberately torture the dead. In the Gospel of Nicodemus, Hell is both place and person, representing death but not actually evil. The York play does not use “Hell” as a person, but the place is also called Limbo by one devil. It’s dark and cold; it’s a prison, but it isn’t inflicting evil.
The large corral of Hell contains a number of dead souls. In the opening speeches, we see Adam and Eve, Isaiah, Moses, Simeon, and John the Baptist. They have seen a light! Was there a stage effect, a lantern whose light could be cast into a darkened area? Or was it understood to be metaphorical? After Jesus speaks, Adam hears and calls to the others to come listen. They compare notes about what they knew, in their lifetimes, regarding the light that would come to the people who walked in darkness.
Then we first hear from the characters who will enliven this play: the devils. We first meet Rebalde and Belsabub, who are guarding the gates. Rebalde reports an “uggely noyse” made by the “lurdans that in lymbo dwelle.” They’re acting happy and talking about leaving! It’s time to tie them up (“bynde ther boyes”) and make sure the gates are secure. They need more help, calling out for at least six more devils to arrive:
Calle uppe Astrotte and Anaball
To giffe ther counsaille in this case,
Bele-Berit and Belial,
To marre [harm] thame that swilke [such] maistries mase [make].
Say to Satan oure sire
And bidde thame bringe also
Lucifer, lovely of lyre.
Nothing “made” the play like a good team of devils. They were wicked, so they could be mocked. They were wicked, so they could be funny. They could jump or dance, shake fists or wring hands. They were probably dressed in all-black costumes with black masks, perhaps with horns. They may have had tails and forks, as in cartoons.
The central conflict of the play is a debate between Jesus and Satan, as Jesus demands that the gates be opened. Satan mocks Jesus for claiming that his father is God, when he has been living as “a symple knave” in the “myre.” Jesus replies that he did it for love of mankind. Then Satan claims that by demanding to release some of the dead, Jesus is breaking the heavenly law, for Solomon and Job both said that the dead cannot return from hell. Jesus replies that they weren’t talking about this place, but another, “Where synffull care schall evere encrees.” Satan gloats that in that place, he’ll gather even more dead when he walks all over the earth. No, says Jesus, Satan will not go far; he will be “faste,” that is, confined.
And here they come to blows, with Satan crying, “thou bus be smytte!” But Jesus cries out for Michael the Archangel to seize Satan and carry him away. Satan cries out, “Owte! Ay, herrowe — helpe, Mahounde! Nowe wex I woode oute of my witte.” (Now I go out of my mind with rage.) And off he goes: “I synke into helle pitte.” The rest of the play consists of happy speeches by the saints who now leave Hell and sing a hymn. Michael leads them behind Jesus, and they exit, singing.
This play seems like it would make or break on how amusing and alarming the devils could be. Satan’s speeches would require sarcasm and gloating, as well as rage, shock, and terror. Did he swing at Jesus himself or get his devils to try to hit him? When Michael clobbers him and he cries “Owte!” did he stagger and fall? Did he try to hit back? How did he sink into Hell’s pit? Perhaps the stage floor had a trap door for him to slide through, vanishing. Did he clutch at the floor as he fell?
The actors in these plays took their roles very seriously. It’s not clear from guild records that it was a requirement to be a member of the trade. The Saddlers were contractually bound to deliver the best “Harrowing of Hell” they could put on, that’s all. There is one hint in the regulations of York that actors might not be chosen from among their members: actors are forbidden to play in more than two of the pageants. Since a craftsman could be in only one guild, he would be an outsider in a second play. It throws open the possibility that the guild members played smaller parts, while the big parts went only to those who passed auditions. These could be guild craftsmen, or not.
Because the Feast of Corpus Christi was a genuine religious festival, the actors were also expected to have good characters. To give a role of Jesus to a known liar, just because he had a good stage voice, would be out of the question. This consideration told against any professional minstrels who wished to audition, since their characters were unknown and probably bad. Guild members were known to be pious, since that was part of a guild’s requirement. It was probably good advertising for a craftsman’s shop if he played Noah or Moses well.
Each year, there was a general pageant-master, and these often served for several years to ensure continuity. They coordinated the whole event, including quality control measures, like actors knowing their parts. They appointed four professional actors to hold auditions for the major roles, which in this play would include at least Jesus and Satan. The pageant-master could fine the guilds for low standards: actors who didn’t know their lines, sloppy costumes, actors who were expected to play more than 2 roles in the same production, and just plain bad acting. He also fined guilds for performing somewhere other than the official stops, which certainly would have cut into the regular promoters’ profits, and for showing up late in the morning.
Actors were paid for the performance. Records show an actor playing God at the town of Hull receiving tenpence, another getting a shilling for Noah. Wages rose with inflation but also with the grandeur of the entire production increasing by the decade. Roles with many lines, or with singing parts, paid the most. Bit parts were paid little, and as on every stage, there were also stage hands and props guys. In Coventry, records show eightpence going to a man whose job was hanging Judas and making the cock crow for Peter’s denial. In 1572, a guy carried the spare costumes at Chester for an actor who played Herod at the start of the cycle and Pilate at the end. He only got a sixpence.
with thanks to John Wesley Harris, Medieval Theatre in Context. Most technical details are from Harris, pages 135-140.