809 T656 caseB UC-NRLF $B 3m 3fiT CD CO r- CO en I ' GIFT or Mrs. Emersson / /hncuiot,. . // Z % OUR LADY'S TUMBLER ^ A TWELFTH CENTURY LEGEND Of this book 50 copies have been printed on Japan vellum and the type distributed. This is No.Q.^.. OUR LADY'S TUMBLER A Twelfth Century Leocend done out of Old French into English by Philip H. Wicksteed Printed for Thomas B. Mosher, and pub- lished by him at XL V Exchange Street, Portland, Maine. MDCCCC. PREFACE m444(>6 PREFACE HERE or when this quaint little tale first saw the light is not known. One of a multitude bequeathed to us by medineval France, it was done into English in 1894 by the Rev. Philip H. Wicksteed whose translation we here reprint entire.' Diffi- cult as it is to convey the charm of so slight a thing we cannot but feel that Mr. Wicksteed has successfully turned into Nineteenth Century speech the simple Old World diction of this diminutive story. It cannot of course compare with the passionate utterances of the cajite-fable we I Our Lady's Tumbler. A Twelfth Century Legend Transcribed for Lady Day. mdcccxciv. [By P. H. Wicksteed.] Sq. i6mo. with Frontis- piece and 2 illustrations by H. Granville Fell. Pp. 42. (London, 1894.) Origin of the legend un- known. Vlll PREFACE Com- pared with Aucassm and Nicolete. know as Aucassi?i and Nicolete. There is no touch that cleaves the thin faint air of dawn, no episode at all comparable with the famous speech of that old lover of Provence who declared that he would rather fare forth to Hades with the woman he loved than remain separated from her in the company of the saints in Heaven. On the contrary it has no hint of love at all unless we consider the minstrel's rapturous adoration of the Mother of God a substitute for the vision of an Earthly Paradise vouchsafed Aucassin should he succeed in winning Nicolete. This lack of human passion, however, is made up by the spiritual fervor of the poor mirth-maker who after all was perhaps nearer and dearer to the Middle Age heart than the more celebrated old-time lovers. At all events it is a legend well worth telling, and we present it to our readers believing that they will feel with us its archaic refinement. One can but think of the many argosies of rhyme sunken PREFACE out of sight forevermore, while this brief chronicle has endured from a period at least coincident with the composition of The Canterbury 7 ales. IX Its probable date. OUR LADY'S TUMBLER Note : — The text of this Legend, in French of the end of the Twelfth Century, was published by Foerster in the "Romania," Vol. II., 1872, from a MS. in the Arsenal. Noth- ing is known of its origin. Grober published the variants of two other MSS. in the " Zeitschrift flir Roman- ische Philologie" for 1880. The Transcriber has occasionally availed himself of these alternative read- ings. The Legend is written in lines of eight syllables, rhymed in couplets. p. H. WICKSTEED. OUR LADY'S TUMBLER N the lives of the ancient fathers, where is store of goodly matter, is told a certain tale. Now I will not say- that others full as fair may not be heard — ay! many a one — but I say that this is not to be so scorned but it is worth narrating. I will therefore tell you and relate of what befell a certain minstrel. He wandered so far to and fro, over so many a plot and place, that he grew a-weary of the world and gave himself up to a Holy Order. Horses and robes and money, and whatsoever he had he straight sur- IVhat befell the miti- strel. How he entered c Holy Uraer. OUR LADY'S TUMBLER rendered to it, and clean dismissed himself from the world, resolved never again to set teeth in it. Wherefore he entered that Holy Order — as folk say — in Clairvaux. And when this dancer had given himself to it, albeit he was well adorned and beauteous, comely and well made, he knew no trade that he could ply therein. For all his life he had spent in tumbling and leaping and dancing. How to trip and spring he understood, but naught beside, for he had conned no other lesson — nor pater noster, nor chant, nor credo, nor ave, nor auQ[ht that miorht make for his salvation. When he had entered the Order, he saw those folk high-shorn con- verse by signs, while no sound passed their lips ; and he supposed for sure that they could speak OUR LADY'S TUMBLER no otlierwise. But presently he learned the truth, and knew that for penance they were forbidden to speak, therefore somewhiles they were silent ; whereat it came into his mind that he too ouo^ht often to keep his silence ; and he held his peace so meekly and so long, he had not spoken all the day had they not bidden him to do it ; whereat there was no little laugh- ter many a time. The man was all abashed amongst them, for he knew not to do or say aught with which they were busied there, and he was sore grieved and sad thereat. He beheld the monks and the con- verts, as each one served God here and there according to such office as he held. He saw the priests at the altars, for such was their duty, the deacons at the gospels, the sub-deacons at the visrils, while the acolytes stood ready for the But knew not their ways. OUR LADY'S TUMBLER How each serves God. epistles, in due time. One recites verses, and another a lesson, and the choristers are at the psalters, and the converts at the misereres — for so they order their lament- ings — and even the simplest at pater nosters. Through offices and cloisters he gazes everywhere, up and down, and sees in remote recesses here five, here three, here two, here one. He looks fixedly, if he may, at every one. The one has to lament, the other weep, a third to groan and sigh. Much he wonders what ails them. " Holy Mary!" he says, "what ails these folk that they bear them thus and show such grief.? Methinks they are perturbed indeed, that they all make such lamentations." Then he added, " Holy Mary ! — ah ! woe is me, what have I said ! I trow they are praying God for mercy. But, O wretched me ! what am I OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 5 doine? For there is none here so caitiff but who vies with all the rest in serving God after his trade ; but I had no business here, for I know not what to do or say. A very wretch was I when I gave myself to the Order, for I know nor prayer, nor aught that is good. I see them — one before and another behind — while I only walk with nose in air and consume victuals for nothing. If I am found out in this I shall foully fall, for they will thrust me out to the dogs. And here am I, a strong villain, doing naught but eat. Verily I am wretched in a high degree." Then in despite he wept for woe, and for his part would he were dead. " Holy Mary, mother! " he said, " do pray your Sovereign Father that he hold me in his pleasure, and send me his good counsel, that I may have power to serve him and But he has no office. OUR LADY'S TUMBLER He finds an altar in the crypt. you, and may earn the victuals that I take : for I know well that I misreceive them." Thus maddened with grief he went his way, till, searching through the monastery, he came upon a crypt, and crouched down by an altar, pressing up as close to it as might be. Above the altar was the form of my lady, the Holy Mary. He had not lost his way when he came to that place! No, verily, for God, who well knows how to call his own to him, led him there. When he heard them sound for Mass he leapt up, all dismayed. "Ah ! " he cried, " how am I betrayed ! Now each one will say his stave, and here am I like a tethered ox, doing naught but browse, and spoiling victuals for no good. — Shall I say it .? Shall I do it .? By the mother of God I will ! I shall ne'er be OUR LADY'S TUMBLER blamed for it, if I do what I have learned, and serve the mother of God in her monastery according to my trade. The rest serve in chant- ing, and I will serve in tumbling." He removes his cloak and strips himself, and lays his clothes beside the altar; but, that his flesh be not all naked, he keeps on an under- coat, right fine and thin, scarce more than a shift. Then he stood, just in his body, well girt and adorned. He girds his coat and takes his stand, turns towards the image right humbly, and looks upon it. " Lady," says he, " to your protection I commend my body and my soul. Sweet queen, sweet lady, despise not what I know: for I would fain essay to serve you in good faith, if God aid me, without guile. I can nor chant, nor read to you ; but, certes, I would pick for He offers such service as he knows. OUR LADY'S TUMBLER How he leaps before Our Lady. you a choice of all my finest feats. Now, may I be like the bull-calf that leaps and bounds before his mother. Lady, who art no whit bitter to such as serve you truly, whatsoever I am, may it be for you." Then he began his leaps before her, low and small, great and high, first under and then over. Then he threw himself on his knees again before the image, and saluted it. "Ah!" he says, "all- sweet Queen ! of your pity and of your frankness, despise not my service." Then he tumbled and leapt, and made, in festal guise, the vault of Metz around his head. He saluted the image and adored it, and honoured it with all his might. Then he did the French vault and then the vault of Cham- pagne, and then he did the Spanish vault and then the vaults they do in Brittany, and then the vault of OUR LADY'S TUMBLER Lorraine, and strained himself to do the best of all his power. Then he did the Roman vault, and put his hand before his brow and danced so featly, as he gazed right humbly at the image of the Mother of God. " Lady," he said, " this is a choice performance. I do it for no other but for you ; so aid me God, I do not — for you and for your son ! And this I dare avouch and boast, that for me it is no play- work. But I am serving you, and that pays me. The others serve, and so do I. Lady, despise not your slave, for I serve you for your disport. Lady, you are the mou-joie that kindles all the world." Then he tumbled with his feet up in the air, walked and went on his two hands that he might journey closer to the ground. He twists with his feet and weeps with his eyes. " Lady," he says, " I adore you with 0/ the divers vaults he 7nade. lO OUR LADY'S TUMBLER He will serve Our Lady as her Tum- bler. heart and body, feet and hands, for I can nor more nor less. Hence- forth I will ever be your minstrel. They shall sing in there together, and I will come here to entertain you. Lady, you can guide me. For God's sake do not despise me." Then he beat his breast in penitence, he sighed and wept right tenderly, for he knew not how else to pray. Then he turned back and made a leap. " Lady," he said, "so save me God, I ne'er did that before ! This does not rank among inferior feats, and is all new. Lady ! what fill of joyance should he have who might abide with you in your glorious manor. For God's sake. Lady, receive me therein, for I am yours, and no whit my own." Then he did the vault of Metz again, and tumbled and danced right there. And when he heard them raise the OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 1 1 chants he laid too in right good earnest, and as long as the Mass lasted his body did not cease to dance and trip and leap, till he waxed so faint he might no longer stand upon his feet, but fell upon the ground and dropped for very weariness. And as blood drips from the spit so the sweat started from him, head to foot, from end to end. " Lady," he said, " I can do no more now ; but, indeed, I'll come aeain." With heat he seemed all burning. He puts on his vest- ments again, and when he is clothed salutes the image and goes his way. " Adieu," he says, " sweetest friend. For God's sake be not cast down, for if I can I will come again. At every hour' I would serve you the very best that may be, if it please you, and if I can." Then he went He salutes Our Lady and goes his way. 1 I.e., the canonical hours of matins, nones, vespers and compline. So throughout the story. 12 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER But returfis at every hour. away, still looking at the image. " Lady," he said, " what pity that I know not all those psalters ! Right gladly would I say them for love of you, most sweet Lady. To you I commend my body and my soul." This life he led long time, for at every hour thenceforth he went to render his service and his homage before the image ; for he took mar- vellous delight therein, and did it with a right good-will, so that no day was ever so weary but what he did his best therein to entertain the Mother of God ; and never did he desire other sport. Now they knew, of course, that he went every day into the crypt, but no man on earth knew, save God, what it was that he did there, nor would he, for all the wealth the world possesses, have had any know his doings save only the Lord God alone. For he OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 13 well believed that so soon as they should know they would chase him out and force him into the world again, which is all seething with sins, and he would liefer die than ever be bitten again by sin. But God, who knew his meaning, and how great was his compunction, and the love that made him do it, would not have his deed concealed. Rather did the Sire will and decree that the doings of his friend should be known and manifested, for his Mother's sake, whom he had feted, and that all should know and understand and perceive that God rejects no one who comes to him in love, of whatsoever trade he be, if only he love God and do right. Service without Love is naught. Now, do you suppose that God would have prized his service had he not loved } Not a whit, how- ever much he tumbled ! But it 14 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER He is blatned for fiot attend- ing matins. was his love that he prized. Do penance and toil all you may, keep fast and vigil all you may, weep all you may and sigh, groan and pray, and give yourself to discipline, and go to Mass and matin, and give all you have, and pay all you owe : yet, if you love not God with all your heart, all these good things are thrown away — be well assured — and avail you naught at all for salvation ; for without love and without pity all labour counts for nothing. God asks not gold nor silver, but only true love in folks' hearts. And this man loved God unfeigningly, and that was why God prized his service. So went it with the good man long space. I cannot number you the years that the good man was thus at ease ; but the time came when he was very ill at ease: for a OUR LADY'S TUMBLER monk took note of him, and blamed him much in his heart for that he came not to matins. He wondered what became of him, and said that he would never stop till he knew what sort of man this was, and for what he was worth, and how he earned his bread.' The monk observed and tracked and spied him out until he plainly saw him plying his trade without disguise, as I have told you. " In faith," said he, " here is fine sport ! and methinks greater doins^s than all the rest of ours put together! There are the others at their orisons, and toiling for the houses, while he is dancing as proudly as if he had a hundred marks of silver. He does his busi- ness in good style, and verily he pays us all he owes. It is a goodly 15 ' I.e., what (spiritual) service he was rendering to the corporation in return for the bread he ate. So throughout. A monk seeing his tumb- ling. i6 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER And counts it with- out guile. way of doing it — for us to chant for him and him to tumble for us ! We pay for him and he for us. If we do weep, he gives us quits. Would all the Convent could see him as I do — if I had to fast till nightfall for it ! Not a soul, I trow, could keep from laughing if they saw the fury with which this wretch goes killing himself, as he throws himself into his tumblinor and srives himself no mercy. May God count it for penance ! for he does it with- out guile. And, for my part, in sooth, I think no ill of it; for I take it he does according to his lights and in good faith, because he would not fain be idle." This the monk saw with his eyes at all the hours of the day, as he worked and rested not. Much did he laugh and much rejoice, and felt delight and pity. He went to the Abbot and told OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 17 him. From end to end he related it just as you have heard. Where- on the Abbot rose to his feet and said to the monk : " Now hold your peace, and do not scandalise him ; I bid you, on the vows of your Order. And observe my command to speak of it to no one, save to me. And we will go and see it this day. We will find out what it may mean. And we will pray the Celestial King and his most sweet dear Mother, who is so precious and bright, to beg, in her sweetness, her Son, her Father, her Lord, to let me see this thing to-day, if it be his pleasure ; that God be the more loved thereby and the good man be not blamed, if it likewise please him." Then they went all quietly and hid themselves without more adieu hard by the altar in a nook where he could not see them. The Abbot and the monk witnessed all And tells the Abbot. i8 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER How the Queen of Heaven tends him. the convert's office, and all the divers vaults he made, and his leaping and dancing and saluting the image, and tripping and bound- ing, until he came to faint. He worked himself into such weariness that he needs must fall, and down he sat all worn out. The sweat all over him, for very toil, dropped down upon the floor of the crypt. But in short time, in little space, his sweet Lady succours him, her whom he serves without deceit. Well knew she how to come at need ! The Abbot looked and straight- way saw a Dame so glorious descend from the vault that none e'er saw one so precious and so richly arrayed, nor was one so beauteous e'er born. Her gar- ments were very costly with gold and precious stones. With her OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 19 and solaced When they him all his Then they were the angels from heaven above, and the archangels, who came around the minstrel and sustained him. were ranged around heart was assuaged, pressed to serve him, because they longed to repay the service that he did their Lady, who is so precious a gem. And the sweet frank Queen held a white napkin, and fanned her minstrel with it right sweetly before the altar. The Dame, frank and meek, fans his neck and body and face to cool him. Well does she undertake to aid him. The Dame abandons herself to the task. The good man does not turn a glance to her, for he sees her not, nor knows a whit that he has such fair company. And the angels do him honour. The holy angels do him great honour, albeit they remain no long- 22 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER The Abbot calls the Tum- bler. And so the time came and went until a little afterwards it came to pass that the Abbot sent for the man that had so much good in him. When he heard that he was sent for and that the Abbot was asking for him, his heart was so full of sorrow that he knew not what he should say. " Ah me!" he cried, "I am accused. Never shall I be a day without misery and toil and shame, for my service comes to naught. It is not pleasing to God, as I take it. Ah me! nay, rather, it displeases him: for the truth of it has come to light. Did I sup- pose that such a deed as mine and that such sport were fit to please the Lord God ? Not a whit. They pleased him not at all. Ah me! I ne'er did any good. Alas, what shall I do, what shall I say } Fair, sweetest God, what will become of me } Now shall I be slain and shamed, now shall I be banished from hence, now shall I become a target out there in the world with all its evil. Sweet Lady, holy- Mary, how far astray was that idea of mine ! And I know not whom to take to counsel. Lady, come you to guide me. Nay, sweetest God, do but succour me! Do not delay nor linger. And do bring your Mother with you. For God's sake come not without her. Come both of you to help me, for I know not what to plead. They will say straightway, at the first word, * Be off with you ! ' Oh me ! what answer can I make when I have not a word to say ? What does it matter, for I shall have to go." Weeping, so that his face was wet, he came before the Abbot ; weep- ing, he knelt before him. "Sire," he cried, "for the mercy of God, will you chase me out from here ? Of the Tum- bler's fears. 22 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER The Abbot calls the Tum- bler. And SO the time came and went until a little afterwards it came to pass that the Abbot sent for the man that had so much good in him. When he heard that he was sent for and that the Abbot was asking for him, his heart was so full of sorrow that he knew not what he should say. " Ah me ! " he cried, " I am accused. Never shall I be a day without misery and toil and shame, for my service comes to naught. It is not pleasing to God, as I take it. Ah me! nay, rather, it displeases him: for the truth of it has come to light. Did I sup- pose that such a deed as mine and that such sport were fit to please the Lord God } Not a whit. They pleased him not at all. Ah me! I ne'er did any good. Alas, what shall I do, what shall I say .? Fair, sweetest God, what will become of me ? Now shall I be slain and OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 23 shamed, now shall I be banished from hence, now shall I become a target out there in the world with all its evil. Sweet Lady, holy Mary, how far astray was that idea of mine ! And I know not whom to take to counsel. Lady, come you to guide me. Nay, sweetest God, do but succour me! Do not delay nor linger. And do bring your Mother with you. For God's sake come not without her. Come both of you to help me, for I know not what to plead. They will say straightway, at the first word, * Be off with you ! ' Oh me ! what answer can I make when I have not a word to say ? What does it matter, for I shall have to go." Weeping, so that his face was wet, he came before the Abbot ; weep- ing, he knelt before him. "Sire," he cried, "for the mercy of God, will you chase me out from here ? Of the Tum- bler's fears. 24 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER The Abbot will know his trade. Say what you command. I will do all your will." The Abbot said : " I will to know, and will that you should tell me true — you have been long time here, winter and summer — I will to know what is your worth, and how you earn your bread." "Alas!" said he, "I knew it well, that I should be sent upon my way soon as my doings should be known ; that they would have no more to do with me. Sire," he said, " I go my way. Wretched I am and wretched I shall be, and I never made a farthing's worth of any goods." The Abbot answered : " Far am I from saying that, but I require and demand, and moreover I command you in virtue of obedi- ence, that you tell me all you know, and at what trade you serve us in our monastery." "Sire!" he said, " how have you slain me ! How this command kills me ! " Then he tells OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 25 him, with whatever grief, all his doings, from end to end, so that he did not leave a word to say but told it all at a breath, just as I have related it. And now he has told it all and narrated it to him with clasped hands, weeping, kissing his feet and sighing. He tells the Abbot all. The holy Abbot turned to him, and, weeping, raised him up, and kissed both his two eyes. " Broth- er," said he, " now hold thy peace, for I accord, in very truth, that you shall be of our convent. God grant that we may be of yours ; in guer- don of service done in our own. I and you will be good friends. Fair, sweet brother, pray for me, and I will pray again for you. And I pray you, my sweet friend, and command you without feigning, that you do this service frankly, even as you have done it — ay, and yet better if 26 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER How a grievous sickness came upon him. you have the skill." "Sire," said he, "is this in verity?" "Yes," said the Abbot, " 'tis in verity." He charged him, on pain of pen- ance, to doubt it no more ; whereat the good man was so overjoyed, as says the ditty, that he scarce knew what had become of him, and he must needs sit him down, and he turned all pale. When his heart came back to him his bosom leapt with joy, so sore that an ill assailed him, whereof in right short space he died. But very meekly he did his service without repose, morning and evening, night and day, never missing an hour until he was smit- ten sick ; and so great was the ill that held him that he could not stir from his bed. Then it was Q:rievous shame to him that he might not pay his dues ; and there- for chiefly was he troubled, for he complained not a whit of his ill, OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 27 save that he stood in sore doubt of losing his penance, in that he toiled not at that toil that was his wont. It seemed him he was all too sloth- ful ; and since slothful he must be henceforth, the good man prayed to God to receive him e'er he were undone by sloth. For he felt such utter grief about this matter, where- of some knew, that his heart might not endure it; yet needs must he lie and could not stir. The holy Abbot honours him much ; he and his monk at every hour come to chant at his couch. And he took such great delight in what they sang to him of God that he would not have had Poitou in lieu of it, but would have given all in quit- tance, such joy had he in hearing. Well did he confess and repent ; yet withal was he in doubt. What need of more ? At the last it behoved him meet his end. How they chant to him of God. 28 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER And the Mother of God receives his soul. The Abbot was there and all his monks, many a priest and many a canon, who gazed at him right humbly, and saw all openly a mira- cle most marvellous. For they all saw with their eyes that at his end were the angels present, and the Mother of God and the archangels, ranged all around him. And on the other side were the furious ones, the enemies and the devils, to have his soul — it is no fable! But in vain had they waited, and hastened and strained so far, for they shall have no part in his soul. Albeit his soul departs from his body it falls not at all, for the Mother of God has received it. And the angels who are there sine for joy and go their way, and carry him to heaven, as was decreed. And this all the convent saw, and all the rest who were there. Now they all knew and were aware that OUR LADY'S TUMBLER 29 recognise God would no longer hide his love of his bachelor, but rather would that each and all should know the good in him. great marvel had Hi2:h honour did they render to his body, which they bore into their monastery, render- ing high service to God. Nor was there one but chanted or read in the choir of the great church. and Great joy and they thereat. The Abbot tells the tale. With right great honour do they bury him, and look upon him as a holy corse. And then without disguise the Abbot told them all the tale of him and of his way of life even as you have heard it, and of all that he saw in the crypt. The convent listened gladly. " Verily," they said, " we must needs believe it, and none should misbelieve you, for the truth bears witness. It is well proved at need ; nor is there 30 OUR LADY'S TUMBLER May we all have God's love. place for doubt that he has made his penance." Great joy had they amongst themselves thereat. Thus ends The Minstrel. In happy hour he tumbled ; in happy hour he served; for thereby he won high honour such that none may compare therewith. This is what the holy fathers relate concerning what befel this minstrel. Now pray we to God, who has no like, that he grant us so to serve him that we may earn his love. HERE ENDS OUR LADY'S TUM- BLER. A TWELFTH CENTURY LEGEND DONE OUT OF OLD FRENCH INTO ENGLISH BY PHILIP H. WICKSTEED. PRINT- ED BY SMITH & SALE FOR THOMAS B. MOSHER, AND PUB- LISHED BY HIM AT XLV EX- CHANGE STREET, PORTLAND, MAINE, MDCCCC. GENERAL LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. . lllllla?54Mr IViA;':-^l954LU? FEB 2 1957 IS RECEivr* FEB27o7.i2AI\| LOAN DEPT. LD 21-lOOm-l, '54(1887816)476 M444G6 0, THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY V \