Interludes were a variety of these secular plays, and probably gave birth to the farce of later times; they were facetious or satirical dialogues, calculated to promote mirth. A representation of this character before Henry the Eighth, at Greenwich, is thus related by Hall:—“Two persons played a dialogue, the effect whereof was to declare whether riches were better than love; and when they could not agree upon a conclusion, each knight called in three knights well armed; three of them would have entered the gate of the arch in the middle of the chamber, and the other three resisted; and suddenly between the six knights, out of the arch fell down a bar all gilt, for the which bar the six knights did battle, and then they departed; then came in an old man with a silver beard, and he concluded that love and riches both be necessary for princes; that is to say, by love to be obeyed and served, and with riches to reward his lovers and friends.”
Another is described by the same author as performed at Windsor, when “the Emperor Maximilian and King Henry, being present, there was a disguising or play; the effect of it was, that there was a proud horse, which would not be tamed or bridled; but Amity sent Prudence and Policy, which tamed him, and Force and Puissance bridled him. The horse was the French king, Amity the king of England, and the emperor and other persons were their counsel and power.”
When regular plays became established, these motley exhibitions lost their charm for all, save the vulgar; the law set its face against them, performers were stigmatised as rogues and vagabonds, and it is highly probable that necessity suggested to the tragitour or juggler, who was reduced to one solitary companion, the jester or jackpudding, to make up his “company,” the idea of substituting puppets to supply the place of other living characters. The drama was in much the same state of progress throughout the civilized portions of Europe; and to the Italians and Spaniards the ingenuity of “Punchinello” has been attributed. In England these wooden performers were called motions; and Mr. Punch took among them the rank of mirth-maker. If there yet lives a being who has not at some moment of his life felt a thrill of delight at the prospect of a half-hour’s exhibition of this gentleman’s performance in his miniature theatre, we pity him most heartily.
The oratorio is a mystery or morality in music. The Oratorio commenced with the priests of the Oratory, a brotherhood founded at Rome, 1540, by St. Philip Neri, who, in order to attract the youthful and pleasure-loving to church, had hymns, psalms, or spiritual songs, or cantatas sung either in chorus or by a single favourite voice. These pieces were divided into two parts, one sung before the other, after the sermon. Sacred stories or events from
Scripture, written in verse, and, by way of dialogue, were set to music, and the first part being performed, the sermon succeeded, which people were inclined to remain to hear, that they might also hear the conclusion of the musical performance. This ingenious device precluded the necessity, we presume, of locking the doors to prevent the egress of the congregation after prayers, and before the sermon, that has in some places since been resorted to.
The institutions of the Oratory required that corporal punishments should be mingled with their religious harmony; and the custom would seem to have been, that at certain seasons, of frequent occurrence, the brethren went through severe castigation from their own hands, upon their own bodies, with whips of small cords, delivered to them by officers appointed for the purpose. This ceremony was performed in the dark, while a priest recited the Miserere and De Profundis with several prayers; after which, in silence and gloom, they were permitted to resume their attire, and refrain from their self-inflictions.
Mysteries and moralities ceased altogether about the year 1758 in this country; a comedy by Lupton, bearing that date, being about the last trace of the old school of dramatic writing. The same year is memorable in this city for the gorgeous pageantries that marked the progress of England’s famous queen
through its streets, on the occasion of her visit to this then thriving metropolis of wealth and commerce; and a sketch of the amusements provided for her entertainment, and the talents put into requisition to do honour to her august presence, may not be out of place here, containing, as they do, perhaps some of the latest specimens of the allegorical dramatic writing that exist. They bear strong evidence of the encouragement given to literature by Elizabeth, which had created the fashion for classical allusion upon every possible occasion; and her admiration of the compliment so conveyed, caused the mythology of ancient learning to be introduced into the various shows and spectacles set forth in her honour, until almost every pageant became a pantheon.
But now for the royal visit, whose glorious memory has shed a halo over worsted weaving, and bombazines, and stocking manufactures, and is now enshrined in the magisterial closet of the Guildhall where the little silver sceptre then bequeathed to the honoured city lingers as a memento of the great event.
It was in the year 1578, that her Most Gracious Majesty, by the grace of God, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, was pleased to honour the city by her royal presence for the space of six days and nights, during which period the gaiety and magnificence of the doings would appear to have surpassed all previous or subsequent experience. The civic