These riotous and irreverent tripudists and caperers appear to have possessed themselves of the church-yards to exhibit their dancing fooleries, till this profanation of consecrated ground was punished, as monkish histories inform us, with divine vengeance. The well-known Nuremberg Chronicle[10] has recorded, that in the time of the Emperor Henry the Second, whilst a priest was saying mass on Christmas Eve, in the church of Saint Magnus, in the diocese of Magdeburg, a company of eighteen men and ten women amused themselves with dancing and singing in the church-yard, to the hindrance of the priest in his duty. Notwithstanding his admonition, they refused to desist, and even derided the words he addressed to them. The priest being greatly provoked at their conduct, prayed to God and Saint Magnus that they might remain dancing and singing for a whole year without intermission, and so it happened; neither dew nor rain falling upon them. Hunger and fatigue were set at defiance, nor were their shoes or garments in the least worn away. At the end of the year they were released from their situation by Herebert, the archbishop of the diocese in which the event took place, and obtained forgiveness before the altar of the church; but not before the daughter of a priest and two others had perished; the rest, after sleeping for the space of three whole nights, died soon afterwards. Ubert, one of the party, left this story behind him, which is elsewhere recorded, with some variation and additional matter. The dance is called St. Vitus’s, and the girl is made the daughter of a churchwarden, who having taken her by the arm, it came off, but she continued dancing. By the continual motion of the dancers they buried themselves in the earth to their waists. Many princes and others went to behold this strange spectacle, till the bishops of Cologne and Hildesheim, and some other devout priests, by their prayers, obtained the deliverance of the culprits; four of the party, however, died immediately, some slept three days and three nights, some three years, and others had trembling in their limbs during the whole of their lives. The Nuremberg Chronicle, crowded as it is with wood-cut embellishments by the hand of Wolgemut, the master of Albert Durer, has not omitted to exhibit the representations of the above unhappy persons, equally correct, no doubt, as the story itself, though the same warranty cannot be offered for a similar representation, in Gottfried’s Chronicle and that copious repertory of monstrosities, Boistuau and Belleforest’s Histoires Prodigieuses. The Nuremberg Chronicle[11] has yet another relation on this subject of some persons who continued dancing and singing on a bridge whilst the eucharist was passing over it. The bridge gave way in the middle, and from one end of it 200 persons were precipitated into the river Moselle, the other end remaining so as to permit the priest and his host to pass uninjured.
In that extremely curious work, the Manuel de Pêché, usually ascribed to Bishop Grosthead, the pious author, after much declamation against the vices of the times, has this passage:—
Karoles ne lutes ne deit nul fere,
En seint eglise ki me voil crere;
Kas en cimetere karoler,
Utrage est grant u lutter.[12]
He then relates the story in the Nuremberg Chronicle, for which he quotes the book of Saint Clement. Grosthead’s work was translated about the year 1300 into English verse by Robert Mannyng, commonly called Robert de Brunne, a Gilbertine canon. His translation often differs from his original, with much amplification and occasional illustrations by himself. As the account of the Nuremberg story varies so materially, and as the scene is laid in England, it has been thought worth inserting.
Karolles wrastelynges or somour games,
Whosoever haunteth any swyche shames,
Yn cherche other yn cherche yerd,
Of sacrilage he may be aferd;
Or entyrludes or syngynge,
Or tabure bete or other pypynge;
All swyche thyng forboden es,
Whyle the prest stondeth at messe;
But for to leve in cherche for to daunce,
Y shall you telle a full grete chaunce,
And y trow the most that fel,
Ys sothe as y you telle.
And fyl thys chaunce yn thys londe,
Yn Ingland as y undyrstonde,
Yn a kynges tyme that hyght Edward,
Fyl this chaunce that was so hard.
Hyt was upon crystemesse nyzt
That twelve folys a karolle dyzt,
Yn Wodehed, as hyt were yn cuntek,[13]
They come to a toune men calle Cowek:[14]
The cherche of the toune that they to come,
Ys of Seynt Magne that suffred martyrdome,
Of Seynt Bukcestre hyt ys also,
Seynt Magnes suster, that they come to;
Here names of all thus fonde y wryte,
And as y wote now shal ye wyte
Here lodesman[15] that made hem glew,[16]
Thus ys wryte he hyzte[17] Gerlew;
Twey maydens were yn here coveyne,
Mayden Merswynde[18] and Wybessyne;
All these came thedyr for that enchesone, } doghtyr
Of the prestes of the toune.
The prest hyzt Robert as y can ame,
Azone hyzt hys sone by name,
Hys doghter that there men wulde have,
Thus ys wryte that she hyzt Ave.
Echone consented to o wyl,
Who shuld go Ave out to tyl,
They graunted echone out to sende,
Bothe Wybessyne and Merswynde:
These women zede and tolled[19] her oute,
Wyth hem to karolle the cherche aboute,
Benne ordeyned here karollyng,
Gerlew endyted what they shuld syng.
Thys ys the karolle that they sunge,
As telleth the Latyn tunge,
Equitabat Bevo per sylvam frondosam,
Ducebat secum Merwyndam formosam,
Quid stamus cur non imus.
By the levede[20] wode rode Bevolyne,
Wyth hym he ledde feyre Merwyne,
Why stonde we why go we noght:
Thys ys the karolle that Grysly wroght,
Thys songe sung they yn chercheyerd,
Of foly were they nothyng aferd.
The party continued dancing and carolling all the matins time, and till the mass began; when the priest, hearing the noise, came out to the church porch, and desired them to leave off dancing, and come into the church to hear the service; but they paid him no regard whatever, and continued their dance. The priest, now extremely incensed, prayed to God in favour of St. Magnes, the patron of the church:
That swych a venjeaunce were on hem sent,
Are they out of that stede[21] were went,
That myzt ever ryzt so wende,
Unto that tyme twelvemonth ende.
Yn the Latyne that y fonde thore,
He seyth not twelvemonth but evermore.
The priest had no sooner finished his prayer, than the hands of the dancers were so locked together that none could separate them for a twelvemonth:
The preste yede[22] yn whan thys was done,
And comaunded hys sone Azone,
That shuld go swythe after Ave,
Oute of that karolle algate to have;
But al to late that wurde was sayde,
For on hem alle was the venjeaunce leyd.
Azonde wende weyl for to spede
Unto the karolle asswythe he yede;
Hys syster by the arme he hente,
And the arme fro the body wente;
Men wundred alle that there wore,
And merveyle nowe ye here more;
For seythen he had the arme yn hand,
The body yode furth karoland,
And nother body ne the arme
Bled never blode colde ne warme;
But was as drye with al the haunche,
As of a stok were ryve a braunche.
Azone carries his sister’s arm to the priest his father, and tells him the consequences of his rash curse. The priest, after much lamentation, buries the arm. The next morning it rises out of the grave; he buries it again, and again it rises. He buries it a third time, when it is cast out of the grave with considerable violence. He then carries it into the church that all might behold it. In the meantime the party continued dancing and singing, without taking any food or sleeping, “only a lepy wynke;” nor were they in the least affected by the weather. Their hair and nails ceased to grow, and their garments were neither soiled nor discoloured; but