Popular Culture Review Vol. 1, December 1989 | Page 8

harlots o f Measurefor Measure, not to mention comic moments in
plots dealing with more tragic figures like Shylock; Marlowe lets
his Dr. Faustus (1592?) waste devil-given powers in buffoonish
pranks.
Beyond the narrow confines of stage or book, consider an
institution as sacrosanct as the Church. W ho has not questioned the
appropriateness of grotesque gargoyles decorating the outer walls
of the great cathedrals? Consider, even inside those sacred walls,
fanciful, humorously conceived animals carved into the aisle sides
o f late medieval pews. Even more striking, consider one o f the
decorations in the cloister o f the Church o f San Juan de los Reyes
in Toledo. You will find, prominently displayed, in clear detail, the
figure o f a monkey reading a book, while sitting on a chamber pot.
Finally, consider the skeletons of the Dance o f Death — the Danse
M acabre figures that still haunt us on Halloween. Then as now they
are depicted with a big grin on their leering skull-faces. All these
remained part of Church decoration, Church teaching, however
serious their intent obviously was. The mass public was condi
tioned to expect humor, even in the most solemn circumstances,
and, we may assume, enjoyed it.
Let us not forget that the newer European Renaissance stage
developed from classic Greek and Roman drama, which already
boasted o f its Aristophanes as well as its Sophocles and Euripedes,
its Plautus as well as its Seneca. The Church mystery and miracle
plays that it superseded already had a tradition of comic interludes.
Neither let us forget that, by and large, in its very essence, the stage
is a more democratic vehicle than, for instance, the epic, or lyric
poetry, or, in somewhat later years, even the novel. Playwrights
perforce accommodated the tastes of commoner and cavalier alike.
It has been said that no play nor opera is truly un-popular. Littleread novels do get published, but a play must please a fairly wide
audience simply to survive. It has always cost too much to be
exclusivist — something even a Shakespeare realized.

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