The Miracles de Nostre Dame[627] are an interesting repertory of the Virgin’s interventions. These “Mysteries” or miracle plays in Old French verse are naïve enough in their kindly stratagems, by which the votary is saved from punishment in this life and his soul from torment in the next. The first “Miracle” in this collection runs thus: A pious dame and her knightly husband, from devotion to the Virgin Mary took the not unusual vow of married continence. But under diabolic incitement, the knight over-persuaded his lady, who in her chagrin at the broken vow devoted the offspring to the devil. A son was born, and in due time the devil came to claim it. Thereupon a huge machinery, of pope and cardinals, hermits and archangels, is set in motion. At last the case is brought before God, where the devils show cause on one side, and “Nostre Dame” pleads on the other. Our Lady wins on the ground that the mother could not devote her offspring to the devil without the father’s consent, which was not shown.
There is surely no harm in this pleasant drama; for the devil ought not to have had the boy. But there follow quite different “Miracles” of Our Lady. The next one is typical. An abbess sins with her clerk. Her condition is observed by the nuns, and the bishop is informed. The abbess casts herself on the mercy of Mary, who miraculously delivers her of the child and gives it into the care of a holy hermit. An examination of the abbess takes place, after which she is declared innocent by the bishop. But she is at once moved to repentance, and confesses all to him. In the bishop’s mind, however, the Virgin’s intervention is sufficient proof of the abbess’s holiness. He absolves her, and goes to the hermitage and takes charge of the child.[628]
Such is an example of the kindly but peculiar miracles, in which the Virgin saves her friends who turn to her and repent. Many other tales, quite lovely and unobjectionable, are told of her: how she keeps her tempted votaries from sinning, or helps them to repent:[629] or blesses and leads on to joy those who need no forgiveness. Such a one was the monk-scribe who illuminated Mary’s blessed name in three lovely colours whenever it occurred in the works he copied, and then kissed it devoutly. As he lay very ill, having received the sacraments, another brother saw in vision the Virgin hover above his couch and heard her say: “Fear not, son, thou shalt rejoice with the dwellers in heaven, because thou didst honour my name with such care. Thine own name is written in the book of life. Arise and come with me.” Running to the infirmary the brother found his brother dying blissfully.[630]
There are lovely stories too of passionate repentance, coming unmiraculously to those devoutly thinking on the Virgin and her infant Son. “For there was once a nun who forsook her convent and became a prostitute, but returned after many years. As she thought of God’s judgment and the pains of hell, she despaired of ever gaining pardon; as she thought of Paradise, she deemed that she, impure, could never enter there; and when she thought upon the Passion, and how great ills Christ had borne for her and how great sins she had committed, she still was without hope. But on the Day of the Nativity she began to think that unto us a Child is born, and that children are appeased easily. Before the image of the Virgin she began to think of the Saviour’s infancy, and, with floods of passionate tears, besought the Child through the benignity of His childhood to have mercy upon her. She heard a voice saying to her that through the benignity of that childhood which she had invoked, her sins were forgiven.”[631]
But enough of these stories. Nor is there need to enlarge upon the relic-worship and other superstitions of the Middle Ages. One sees such matters on every side. It was all a matter of course, and disapprovals were rare. Such conceptions of sin and the devil’s part in it affected the morality of clergy as well as laity. The morals of the latter could not rise above those of their instructors; and the layman’s religion of masses, veneration of relics, pilgrimages, almsgiving and endowment of monasteries, scarcely interfered with the cruelty and rapine to which he might be addicted.
CHAPTER XXI
THE WORLD OF SALIMBENE
At the close of this long survey of the saintly ideals and actualities of the Middle Ages, it will be illuminating to look abroad over mediaeval life through the half mystic but most observant eyes of a certain Italian Franciscan. The Middle Ages were not characterized by the open eye. Mediaeval Chronicles and Vitae rarely afford a broad and variegated picture of the world. As they were so largely the work of monks, obviously they would set forth only what would strike the monastic eye, an eye often intense with its inner vision, but not wide open to the occurrences of life. The monk was not a good observer, commonly from lack of sympathy and understanding. Of course there were exceptions; one of them was the Franciscan Salimbene, an undeniable if not too loving son of an alert north Italian city, Parma.