Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535 Part 43

Sometimes the nun is found playing a part in the romantic ballad-literature of Europe. A Rhineland legend of the dance of death, interesting because it embodies the names and dates of the actors, has for its setting a convent; it is thus summarised by Countess Martinengo-Cesaresco[1773]:

In the fourteenth century Freiherr von Metternich placed his daughter Ida in a convent on the island of Oberworth, in order to separate her from her lover, one Gerbert, to whom she was secretly betrothed. A year later the maiden lay sick in the nunnery, attended by an aged lay sister. "Alas!" she said "I die unwed though a betrothed wife."

"Heaven forfend!" cried her companion, "then you would be doomed to dance the death-dance." The old sister went on to explain that betrothed maidens who die without having either married or taken religious vows, are condemned to dance on a gra.s.sless spot in the middle of the island, there being but one chance of escape, the coming of a lover, no matter whether the original betrothed or another, with whom the whole party dances round and round till he dies; then the youngest of the ghosts makes him her own and may henceforth rest in her grave. The old nun's gossip does not delay the hapless Ida's departure, and Gerbert, who hears of her illness on the sh.o.r.es of the Boden See, arrives at Coblenz only to have tidings of her death. He rows over to Oberworth; it is midnight in midwinter. Under the moonlight dance the unwed brides, veiled and in flowing robes; Gerbert thinks he sees Ida among them. He joins the dance; fast and furious it becomes, to the sound of a wild unearthly music. At last the clock strikes and the ghosts vanish--only one, as it goes, seems to stoop and kiss the youth, who sinks to the ground. There the gardener finds him on the morrow, and in spite of all the care bestowed upon him by the sisterhood, he dies before sundown.

Another German ballad, taken down from oral recitation, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, opens with a good swing:

Stund ich auf hohen bergen Und sah ich uber den Rhein Ein Schifflein sah ich fahren, Drei Ritter waren drein.

"I stood upon a high mountain and looked out over the Rhine, and I saw three knights come sailing in a little boat. The youngest was a lord's son, and fain would have wed me, young as he was. He drew a little golden ring from off his finger, "Take this, my fair, my lovely one, but do not wear it till I am dead." "What shall I do with the little ring, if I may not wear it?" "O say you found it out in the green gra.s.s." "O that would be a lie and evil. Far sooner would I say that the young lord was my husband." "O maiden, were you but wealthy, came you but of n.o.ble kin, were we but equals, gladly would I wed you."

"Though I may not be rich yet am I not without honour, and my honour I will keep, until one who is my equal comes for me." "But if your equal never comes, what then?" "Then I will go into a convent and become a nun." There had not gone by a quarter of a year when the lord had an evil dream; it seemed to him that the love of his heart was gone into a convent. "Rise up, rise up, my trusty man, saddle horses for thee and me. We will ride over mountains and through valleys--the maid is worth all the world." And when they came to the convent, they knocked at the door of the tall house, "Come forth, my fair, my lovely one, come forth for but a minute." "Wherefore should I come forth? Short hair have I, my locks they have cut off--for a long year has pa.s.sed."

Despair filled the lord's heart; he sank upon a stone and wept glittering tears and could never be glad again. With her snow-white little hands she dug the lord a grave and the tears fell for him out of her brown eyes. And to all young men this happens who seek after great wealth. They set their love upon beautiful women; but beauty and riches go not always hand in hand"[1774].

It is a strange thing that in all the ballad and folk-song literature of England and Scotland there should be one and only one reference to a nun.

But that reference is a profoundly interesting one, for it is to be found in the fine ballad of the _Death of Robin Hood_, which tells how the great outlaw came to his end through the treachery of the Prioress of Kirklees:

When Robin Hood and Little John _Down a-down, a-down, a-down_, Went o'er yon bank of broom Said Robin Hood to Little John, "We have shot for many a pound: _Hey down, a-down, a-down_.

"But I am not able to shoot one shot more, My broad arrows will not flee; But I have a cousin lives down below, Please G.o.d, she will bleed me."

"I will never eat nor drink," he said, "Nor meat will do me good, Till I have been to merry Kirkleys My veins for to let blood.

"The dame prior is my aunt's daughter, And nigh unto my kin; I know she wo'ld me no harm this day For all the world to win."

"That I rede not," said Little John, "Master, by th' a.s.sent of me, Without half a hundred of your best bowmen You take to go with yee."

"An thou be afear'd, thou Little John, At home I rede thee be."

"An you be wrath, my deare master You shall never hear more of me."

Now Robin is gone to merry Kirkleys And knocked upon the pin; Up then rose Dame Prioress And let good Robin in.

Then Robin gave to Dame Prioress Twenty pounds in gold, And bade her spend while that did last, She sho'ld have more when she wo'ld.

"Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin; And drink some beer with me?"-- "No, I will neither eat nor drink Till I am blooded by thee."

Down then came Dame Prioress Down she came in that ilk, With a pair of blood-irons in her hand, Were wrapped all in silk.

"Set a chafing dish to the fire," she said, "And strip thou up thy sleeve."

--I hold him but an unwise man That will no warning 'leeve.

She laid the blood-irons to Robin's vein, Alack the more pitye!

And pierc'd the vein, and let out the blood That full red was to see.

And first it bled the thick, thick blood, And afterwards the thin, And well then wist good Robin Hood Treason there was within.

And there she blooded bold Robin Hood While one drop of blood wou'd run; There did he bleed the livelong day, Until the next of morn.

Then Robin, locked in the room and too weak to escape by the cas.e.m.e.nt, blew three weak blasts upon his horn, and Little John came hurrying to Kirklees and burst open two or three locks and so found his dying master.

"A boon, a boon!" cried Little John:

"What is that boon," said Robin Hood "Little John, thou begs of me?"-- "It is to burn fair Kirkleys-hall And all their nunnerye."

"Now nay, now nay," quoth Robin Hood, "That boon I'll not grant thee; I never hurt woman in all my life, Nor men in their company."

"I never hurt maid in all my time, Nor at mine end shall it be; But give me my bent bow in my hand, And a broad arrow I'll let flee; And where this arrow is taken up There shall my grave digg'd be"[1775].

So died bold Robin Hood. The English boy nurtured on his country's ballads, has little cause to love the memory of the nun.

NOTE J.

THE THEME OF THE NUN IN LOVE IN MEDIEVAL POPULAR LITERATURE.

It may be of interest to note some further examples of the nun in love as a theme for medieval tales, and in particular: (1) other versions of the eloping nun theme, (2) the story of the abbess who was with child and was delivered by the Virgin, and (3) some other _contes gras_.

(1) Various versions of the eloping nun tale enjoyed popularity, though never as great popularity as was enjoyed by the story of Beatrice the Sacristan. An old French version in the form of a miracle play tells of a knight, who loved a nun and persuaded her to leave her convent with him; but she saluted the Virgin's image in pa.s.sing and twice the image descended from its pedestal and barred her way when she tried to pa.s.s the door, until at last she ran by without saluting it and escaped with her lover. They married and had two children and lived happily together for several years. Then one day Our Lady came down from heaven to seek her faithless friend. She bade the nun return and the husband, hearing this, was moved in his heart and said "since for love of me thou didst leave thy convent, for love of thee I will leave the world and become a monk." Thus they departed together and their babies were left to cry for mother and father in vain[1776].

In another story the nun, trying to insert the key of the convent into the lock and make her escape, was prevented by some invisible object, which formed a barrier between her and the lock; she beat and pushed in vain and at last turned to go, and saw in her path, the Virgin with white hands bleeding. "Behold," said the Virgin, "it was I who withstood thee and see what thou hast done to me"[1777]. In another a nun, the sacristan of a convent, was tempted by a clerk and agreed to meet him after Compline. But when she was trying to pa.s.s through the door of the chapel, she saw Christ standing in the arch, with hands outspread, as though upon the cross. She ran to another doorway and to another and to another, but in each she found the crucifix. Then, coming to herself, she recognised her sin and flung herself before an image of the Virgin to ask pardon. The image turned away its face; then, as the trembling nun redoubled her entreaties, stretched out its arm and dealt her a buffet saying: "Foolish one, whither wouldst thou go? return to thy dorter." And so powerful was the Virgin's blow that the nun was knocked down thereby and lay unconscious upon the floor of the chapel until morning[1778]. In another version the nun falls asleep on the night upon which the elopement is fixed and has a vivid dream of the pains of h.e.l.l, from which she is rescued by the Virgin, who exhorts her to chast.i.ty, so that she awakes and sends away her lover's messenger[1779]. In another the Virgin's image prevents the nun from going through one door, but she escapes by another and is seduced[1780]. A more rational version makes the nun strike her head so violently against the lintel of the door, by which she is trying to escape, that she is rendered unconscious and when she recovers her senses the temptation has gone from her and she returns to her bed[1781]. In another the nun packs her clothes into two bundles and pa.s.ses them out of the window to her lover, climbing out after them herself; but thieves intercept her and her bundles and carry them off into a wood. The unhappy nun calls upon the Virgin for help and forthwith falls into a deep sleep, from which she awakes to find herself back in her dorter, with the bundles beside her[1782]. A rather different tale of the nun turned courtesan makes her return after many years to her convent, where by meditating upon the childhood of Christ she is reconverted[1783].

(2) Another theme, which is almost as widespread as that of the eloping nun, is that known as _l'abbesse grosse_. In this an abbess, who was famed for the strict discipline which she kept among her nuns, fell in love with her clerk and became his mistress, so that she soon knew herself to be with child:

Then it happened that she waxed great and drew near her time and her sisters the nuns perceived, and were pa.s.sing fain thereof, because she was so strait unto them, that they might have a cause to accuse her in. And her accusers gart write unto the bishop and let him wit thereof and desired him to come unto their place and see her. So he granted and the day of him coming drew near. And this abbess, that was great with child, made mickle sorrow and wist never what she might do; and she had a privy chapel within her chamber, where she was wont daily as devoutly as she couth [knew how] to say Our Lady's matins.

And she went in there and sparred the door unto her and fell devoutly on knees before the image of Our Lady and made her prayer unto her and wept sore for her sin and besought Our Lady for to help her and save her, that she were not shamed when the bishop came. So in her prayers she happened to fall on sleep, and Our Lady, as her thought, appeared unto her with two angels, and comforted her and said unto her in this manner of wise: "I have heard thy prayer and I have gotten of my son forgiveness of thy sin and deliverance of thy confusion." And anon she was delivered of her child and Our Lady charged these two angels to have it unto an hermit and charged him to bring it up unto it was seven years old; and they did as she commanded them; and anon Our Lady vanished away. And then this abbess wakened and felt herself delivered of her child and whole and sound.

In the sequel the bishop came to the house and could find no sign that the abbess was with child and was about to punish her accusers, when she told him the whole tale. He sent messengers to the hermit and there the child was found; and (in fairy tale phrase, for what are these but religious fairy tales), they all lived happy ever afterwards[1784].

(3) Ribald stories on the same theme are, naturally enough, common in medieval literature, which never spared the Church. A few of the more interesting may here be added to those quoted or referred to in the text.

The _Cento Novelle Antiche_ contains a curious tale of a Countess and her maidens, who, having disgraced themselves with a porter, retired to hide their shame in a nunnery; the story continues thus:

They became nuns and built a convent that is called the Convent of Rimini. The fame of this convent spread and it became very wealthy.

And this story is narrated as true, viz. they had a custom that when any cavaliers pa.s.sed by that had rich armour the abbess and her attendants met them on the threshold and served them with all sorts of good fare and accompanied them to table and to bed. In the morning they provided them with water for was.h.i.+ng and then gave them a needle and thread of silk for them to thread and if they could not accomplish this in three tries, she took from them all their armour and accoutrement and sent them away empty, but if they succeeded she allowed them to retain their possessions and gave them presents of jewellery, etc.[1785]

Francesco da Barberino in his book of deportment, _Del reggimento e costumi di donne_, has a tale of a convent in Spain, which Satan receives permission to tempt; accordingly his emissary Rasis sends into the house three young men, disguised as nuns, to whom all the nuns and the Abbess in turn succ.u.mb[1786]. In one Italian version of an extremely widespread theme, found among the _Novelle_ of Masuccio Guardata da Salerno (1442-1501), a Dominican friar deceives a devout and high-born nun. The story is thus summarised by A. C. Lee:

In one of her books of devotion were some pictures of saints, amongst others the third person of the Trinity; from the mouth of this figure he makes proceed the words in letters of gold, "Barbara, you will conceive of a holy man and give birth to the fifth evangelist." He acts as the holy man and on the lady becoming _enceinte_ he deserts her[1787].

Among medieval French stories may be mentioned those which occur in _Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_, a fifteenth century collection of tales, probably written by Antoine de la Sale in imitation of the _Cento Novelle_. No. XV, concerning the relations between two neighbouring houses of monks and nuns respectively, is too gross to be summarised; No. XXI is the story of the sick abbess, who was recommended by her physician to take a lover and out of respect for her all her nuns did the same; No. XLVI is one of the many tales of a Jacobin friar, who haunted a convent and obtained the favours of a nun[1788]. These are really prose fabliaux; and verse fabliaux on this theme are not wanting, for example Watriquet Bra.s.senal's story of _The Three Canonesses of Cologne_[1789] and the most indecent fabliau of _The Three Ladies_[1790]. There is a rather delightful and merry little German poem called _Daz Maere von dem Sperwaere_, which is a version of the popular French fabliau of _The Crane_[1791]. In this thirteenth century poem a little nun, who has never seen the world, looks over her convent wall and sees a knight with a sparrow hawk; she begs for it and he says he will sell it her for "love," a thing of which she has never heard. He teaches her what it is and gives her the sparrow hawk. But the nun, her schoolmistress, is so angry with her, that she watches on the wall again and next time the knight pa.s.ses, she makes him give her back her "love" and take the sparrow hawk again[1792].

English versions of these tales are extremely rare; for the English were always less adroit than the French and the Italians in the matter of _contes gras_. The nun theme occasionally appears, however, in the sixteenth century; Boccaccio's "breeches" story is in Thomas Twyne's _The Schoolmaster_ (1576)[1793] and the behaviour of nuns and "friars" at Swineshead Abbey forms a comic interlude in _The Troublesome Raigne of King John_ (1591), which was one of the sources used by Shakespeare in his more famous play. In Scene X of the old play Philip Falconbridge comes to Swineshead, with his soldiers, and bids a friar show him where the abbot's treasure is hid. They break open a chest and a nun is discovered inside it. The friar cries:

Oh, I am undone Fair Alice the nun Hath took up her rest In the Abbot's chest.

_Santa benedicite_, Pardon my simplicity Fie, Alice, confession Will not salve this transgression.

Philip remarks:

What have we here? a holy nun? so keep me G.o.d in health, A smooth-faced nun, for aught I know, is all the abbot's wealth.

The nun begs for the life of the first friar and offers in exchange to show Philip a chest containing the h.o.a.rd of an ancient nun. They pick the lock and discover a friar within. The first friar cries: