APPENDIX III

Previous

FIFTEENTH CENTURY SAXON VISITATIONS BY JOHANN BUSCH

Three accounts of medieval visitations stand out in general interest above all others, the thirteenth century Norman visitations of Eudes Rigaud, Archbishop of Rouen, described in his diary, the fifteenth century English visitations of Alnwick, Bishop of Lincoln, described in his Register[2117] and the almost contemporary German visitations of the Austin Canon and reformer Johann Busch, described in his Liber de Reformatione Monasteriorum. Busch’s account is less formal and more literary than those of Rigaud and Alnwick; he sets out not to keep a journal, like the former, nor to record official documents, like the latter, but to look back in retrospect upon his work and to make for posterity a chronicle of the reforms connected with the congregation of Windesheim. For this reason, and because Busch was a remarkable man, his book will probably transcend the others in interest for the general reader; his account of the difficulties which he encountered is so vivid and at times so humourous, the sidelight thrown upon his own character shows him so admirable and yet so human.

Johann Busch was born in 1399 and in 1419 became a canon in the Austin monastery of Windesheim, a new foundation, famed for the strictness of its rule and already the head of a congregation of daughter houses. He has left an interesting account of the doubts and temptations which assailed him during his novitiate; they were the stormy dawn clouds of a day which was to become glorious in the annals of his order. During the next twenty years he held from time to time various posts in different houses of the reformed congregation; in 1431 he was attached to the nunnery of Bronopia, in 1436 he became Subprior of Wittenberg and in 1439 he went to SÜlte, near Hildesheim, where he was made Prior in the following year. He had therefore had considerable experience of monastic houses and it was when he became Prior of SÜlte that his great work as a reformer of monasteries began. He undertook it originally at the request of the Bishop and Chapter of Hildesheim, who were appalled at the decadence of monastic life in that diocese and anxious for the introduction of reforms on the model of Windesheim. His success in Hildesheim prompted Archbishop GÜnther of Magdeburg to invite him to carry the reforming movement into that diocese and in 1447 Busch became praepositus[2118] of the Neuwerk in Halle. This brought him to the notice of the Papal Legate Nicholas of Cues, who came to hold a provincial council in Magdeburg in 1451, and Nicholas, himself an ardent reformer, issued a general mandate empowering him to enter and reform the Austin monasteries of the provinces of Magdeburg, Mainz, Saxony and Thuringia. Unfortunately Busch now quarrelled with the Archbishop of Magdeburg and had to resign in 1454. He returned to Wittenberg and continued his campaign of reform, turning his attention specially to nunneries. Then, after a short sojourn at Windesheim he returned to SÜlte in 1459, where he remained until his death in 1480. He left behind him two books, a Chronicon Windeshemense, and the Liber de Reformatione Monasteriorum, which between them give an invaluable account not only of the rise of Windesheim and of the reforming movement which emanated from it, but of the life and character of Busch himself[2119].

Book II of the Liber de Reformatione Monasteriorum describes the reform of twenty-three nunneries and two houses of lay sisters, of which the great majority belonged to his own order of Austin Regular Canons[2120]. The work was not carried out without considerable opposition, not only from the nuns themselves, for the desire for reform seldom came from within the unreformed orders[2121], but also from their friends and kinsmen in the world, to whom they frequently appealed for help. Moreover certain ecclesiastical magnates, notably the Bishop of Minden, opposed and impeded reforms in their districts, and even when they submitted to such reforms lent them an indifferent and easily discouraged support. On the other hand Busch received his most powerful support from great ecclesiastics such as the Cardinal Legate Nicholas of Cues, the Archbishop of Magdeburg and the Bishops of Halberstadt and Hildesheim, and also from the superiors and chief inmates of houses belonging to the congregation of Windesheim, or already reformed under its influence. Men such as Rutger, prior of Wittenberg, were of the greatest assistance to him; they accompanied him as co-visitors and promoted his work in every possible way, while the reformed nunneries often provided him with nuns to dwell for a time in the houses which he was reforming and to teach their inmates how to comport themselves. Apart from such powerful ecclesiastical support Busch was particularly fortunate in the assistance which he received from the Dukes of Brunswick, Otto, William and Henry, who reigned during his lifetime. These nobles, especially Duke William, had the greatest esteem for Busch and not infrequently accompanied him on his visitations, lending the temporal intimidation of their arguments and armed retainers to his more spiritual menaces. The support of the secular arm was, indeed, necessary, in view of the opposition of lay kinsfolk to the reform of their daughters and sisters.

The monastic houses of Germany had by the fifteenth century fallen into great laxity of rule. The nuns seem to have lost all knowledge of how to perform the ordinary offices of convent life, in choir, chapter and frater, according to the rule, and Busch was often at pains to go carefully through the routine with them, teaching them what to do at each moment. This occasionally gave rise to some amusing scenes. At one of the first houses to be reformed, St Mary Magdalen near Hildesheim (1440), Busch and an elderly monk of SÜlte were teaching the nuns by ocular demonstration how to comport themselves in frater. Having arranged the sisters in seemly order Busch and brother John Bodiker began to intone Benedicite, after the fashion of reformed religious; but the nuns, who had not been accustomed to singing the Benedicite at table, all burst out laughing, instead of following. Busch and the brother, however, kept on until the nuns collected themselves and came in with bowed heads at the verse Gloria patri. Similarly when Busch was showing them how to confess their own and proclaim others’ faults in chapter (a custom which they had completely lost), brother John, acting the sinner, rose up among the sisters and cast himself flat upon the pavement, whereat “the astonished nuns fell to marvelling that such an old brother should seek thus to lie prone”[2122].

The most serious fault found by Busch, serious not only because it was a breach of one of the three substantial vows of monasticism, but because it brought in its train other and worse evils, was the ownership of private property. The nuns were almost universally proprietarie, owning money and annual rents, to say nothing of their own private cooking and dining utensils, for, as always, communal life had gone with individual poverty and the nuns provided their own meals and dined in familia. At Derneburg Busch describes the girls and women of the village coming up to the doors and windows of the house with bread and meat and cheese in sacks and baskets for the nuns to buy[2123]. It was his custom on visiting a house to demand that all the private possessions of the nuns should be brought and heaped up before him. Unwillingly they came with the charters reciting their private rents, the ready money from their purses and chests, the gold and silver rings, the coral paternosters, and all the pots and pans and basins, the cups and plates and spoons which they used for their private meals. All these Busch carefully noted down: “I marvelled,” he says on one occasion, when he had collected a particularly large heap from quite a small house, “how they could have collected from their parents and predecessors and reserved for themselves, as it were by right of inheritance, such a large number of utensils”[2124]. All the money, endowments and implements thus brought together Busch then handed over to the common treasury and store-room of the house.

This rooting out of private property gave rise to the bitterest opposition. The nuns had been wont to evade the charge of proprietas by the merest quibble, which Busch contemptuously swept away. They had deposited all their money and charters with the abbess and when they wanted any they had asked her for it; but she was merely the guardian of their private incomes, which were never merged in a common stock[2125]. When they found that this device was rejected by Busch, they did all they could to preserve their hoards. Sometimes they secretly sent their money out of the house before his arrival[2126]; sometimes they locked it up and tried to conceal it[2127]. The attitude of their kinsfolk also was a stumbling block. These gentlemen were willing enough to endow their own daughters and nieces, but not so willing to support the children of others by gifts which were turned to the common use. Thus it was the nuns who frequently protested that their house was too poor to permit of their living in common, since it was only by these individual endowments that they maintained their existence. It was therefore Busch’s practice, before completing the reformation of a house, to make the nuns obtain from their kinsfolk an undertaking to continue, and if possible to augment, the rents which they had been wont to give their relatives, on the threat of turning out the nuns and distributing them among other houses[2128]. The nobles and burghers of the district naturally wished to keep their kinswomen near them and the endowments were usually forthcoming. At St George (or Marienkammer) near Halle even this device did not result in a large enough income for the nuns; so Busch caused sermons to be preached in all the churches of the district, saying that because of their poverty the fathers of their order wished to distribute the nuns in other houses in the dioceses of Hildesheim and Halberstadt, but that they would be able to remain if they were helped by alms. Whereupon the townsfolk, out of pity for them, gave generously enough to support them for a whole year. Busch led the way himself, sending them openly two large cartloads of corn and a sack of cheeses, an example which was soon followed by the townsfolk, who had ample opportunity of observing the progress of the cart from Busch’s door to the gates of the convent, “for” (says he), “I lived on the eastern, they on the western side of the town.” Dr Paul, the praepositus of St Maurice, Halle, also helped with a cask of wine[2129].

Closely connected with the question of private property was the dowry system, against which Busch also set his face, for it was not only in itself contrary to the rule, but it was one method by which the nuns received those private endowments which they afterwards turned to their own uses:

“All the nuns of Saxony,” says Busch, “whatever their order, made a simoniacal entry into their monasteries before the new reform, giving a sum of money for their reception; and according to ancient custom the newcomers give a certain potation to all the praepositi, priests and chaplains and a great feast for their many friends and for all the nuns and inhabitants [of the house]. This was the common custom in all the nunneries of Saxony and particularly in those which were rich”[2130].

Busch forbade the custom everywhere.

The nuns thus lived like seculars, performing the minimum number of services and owning private property. Like seculars also they loved to give that “fetis” pinch to their wimples, that elegant turn to their mantles, which changed the sombre habit of their order into the dress of a lady of fashion. Busch, in common with all the reformers of the later middle ages, has a great deal to say about their clothes. All the nuns of Saxony and Thuringia refused to crop their heads, and contented themselves with cutting their hair short at the neck[2131]. The nuns of WÜlfinghausen and Fischbeck wore long flowing white veils over their heads, so that it was hardly possible to recognise them as nuns[2132]. Those of St Cyriac’s appeared very pompously arrayed in long tunics and mantles, with tall peaked caps and flowing veils, “que non monialium sed domicellarum castrantium apparatum habuerunt”[2133]. The nuns of Barsinghausen

were very slender, having underneath long tight tunics of white cloth, and above being clad in almost transparent robes of black linen, which they called superpellicia, not girdled but flowing, with long sleeves, which they turned back for capes, beneath which almost all their form, which was bare underneath, could be seen[2134].

The nuns of the penitential order of St Mary Magdalen near Hildesheim wore

“a pleated veil, called in the vulgar tongue Ranse, such as they imagine the blessed Mary Magdalen used to wear, and over tunics very straitly girdled at the breast, so as to make them appear slender, and with very loose pleated trains behind, from the girdle to the hem, after the fashion of secular women. I and my brother John Bodiker,” adds Busch, “censured their habit, for that it was not religious but rather ministered to worldly vanity, and with many pious admonishments we led them all in turn to put off those pleated veils and put over their heads plain white veils without folds and to give up those gowns, which were tight in the upper part and in the lower part wide and pleated, lest they should seem to be following worldly vanity and the subtlety of their own hearts, rather than religion”[2135].

As might be expected laxity of rule and widespread proprietas brought immorality in their train and Busch in several cases mentions that a convent was ill-famed for incontinence. On the other hand this was by no means invariably the case. At WÜlfinghausen, for instance, Busch told the nuns that he had never heard a word breathed against their chastity[2136]. At Weinhausen, where the old abbess withstood reform so strenuously that she had to be removed by force, and where all the nuns possessed private incomes, he specially notes “these nuns observed well the vow of chastity, for their lady the old abbess ruled them very strictly, and they held her in great reverence and fear and called her ‘gracious lady,’ because of her high birth”[2137]. Moreover certain houses received reform so readily and became so soon models of good behaviour, that there cannot have been any very serious moral decay in them. But a passage in the course of Busch’s account of the reform of the Magdalenenkloster at Halle, shows his own opinion as to the relation between absolute immorality and lesser breaches of the rule, and shows in particular the important part which he held to be played by the vice of proprietas in the downward path of a nun. It is interesting also because in it he attributes a great deal of the decadence of nunneries to insufficient control by their pastors and above all to too infrequent visitation:

“The feminine sex,” he says, “cannot long persist in the due observance of their rule without men, who are proven, and reformed and who often call them by wise counsels to better things. For our eyes saw no monastery of nuns belonging to any order (and there is no small number of them in Saxony, Misnia and Thuringia) who remained for long in their good intent, holy life and due reform without reformed fathers. For wherever nuns and holy sisters do not confess at set times, nor communicate, nor hold chapter meeting concerning their faults at least once a week, nor are visited by their [spiritual] fathers every year ..., such nuns and sisters we saw and heard often to be fallen from the observance of their rule and from the religious life to a dissolute life, odious in the sight of God and men, to the grave peril and eternal damnation of their souls. For first laying aside the fear of God, they fall into the sin of property in small things, then in greater things and then in the peculium of money and clothes, thence they break out into the desires of the flesh and incontinence of the outward senses and so to the evil act, and thus they fear not to give themselves over bit by bit to all uncleanliness and foulness”[2138].

He ends with an eloquent plea for a closer watch to be kept over nuns by those responsible for their spiritual welfare.

Such were the main faults which Busch strove to abolish in bringing the nunneries under the reformed rule of Hildesheim. It remains to give some account of the difficulties which he encountered in the course of his work. In some houses he was well received; at Erscherde he says of the nuns:

These virgins were well obedient, pious and tractable, ... dealing with us and with each other kindly and benignantly by word and deed, wherefore we were no little edified by them[2139];

and at St Martin’s, Erfurt, he says:

We found a prioress and nuns living in great poverty, very simple and humble, but of good will and ready for all good work; for they applied themselves promptly to obedience and to the observance of their rule, and very willingly brought to us all those things which they held in private possession[2140].

In other houses reform was not so easy. Busch was frequently impeded by old and obstinate members of a convent, who refused to accept a change in the routine which they had followed for so long. Such was the nobly born abbess of Weinhausen, who was over seventy years of age and had to be removed by force from the house, before any reforms could be carried out: “I found this way of life kept in this monastery forty years ago; this way have I served during as many years and this way and not otherwise will I continue to serve.” One cannot but pity the poor old lady, brought out of her house and forced to ascend the carriage which was to take her away, with Busch pulling her by one sleeve and the Abbot of St Michael by the other; and one is relieved to hear that she was allowed back again shortly afterwards, though forced to resign the position of Abbess[2141]. But Busch’s experience in reforming monasteries caused him to dread the opposition of men and women who had been long in religion. In the course of his panegyric on Fischbeck, which had been reformed from within by a remarkable Abbess, he says:

This monastery hath this advantage over many other Saxon houses, as well of monks as of nuns, that it contains no old people, for these old folk do not fear God nor care they for conscience or for obedience, but when no one is looking, then they do all that they think or desire, chattering with one another and with anyone else, by day and by night, even in places where it is forbidden by the rule[2142].

Besides the obstinacy of old members of the house Busch had also to contend with the occasional opposition of confessors or praepositi, who resented his interference in their domain. At the Magdalenenkloster at Hildesheim, their confessor, who had been with the nuns for eight years, desired to be released after the reformation of the house, saying to the praepositus: “I have been their confessor for so many years, yet nought do I receive from them, save one or two refections in three or four weeks. I would fain be free of them and let them get another confessor.” Busch comments significantly: “He said this, because when they were property-owners, they gave him many little gifts in money, and spices. Now, because they had no private property, they gave him nothing”[2143]. At the convent of White Ladies and at Marienberg the praepositus of the house did everything possible to hinder the reform[2144]. Moreover in several cases Busch had also to deal with the opposition of laymen, objecting either to the enclosure of their kinswomen, or to the abolition of private endowments, or merely supporting on general grounds the objections of the nuns.

The difficulties encountered by a fifteenth century German reformer are best estimated by giving an account of some of Busch’s adventures at recalcitrant houses. At his first attempt to reform Wennigsen in Hanover (1455) he had against him the Bishop of Minden and all the nobles of the neighbouring castles, but he was supported by William Duke of Brunswick and by the authority of the Council of Basel. Taking with him the Duke, his minister Ludolph von Barum and Rutger, Prior of Wittenberg, Busch went to the house and they all four entered the nuns’ choir. The Duke addressed the assembled sisters and bade them receive reformation, but they, crossing their hands above their breasts, replied: “We have all concluded together and sworn that we will not reform nor observe our rule. We beseech you not to make us perjured.” Twice the Duke sent them out to reconsider their decision and twice they made the same reply, finally throwing themselves on their faces on the ground, spreading out their arms in the form of a cross and intoning in a loud voice the antiphon “Media vita in morte sumus.” The visitors, however, thought they were singing “Revelabunt celi iniquitatem Iude” (used as a spell in the middle ages) and the Duke was terrified, lest he should lose all his possessions. But Busch said:

“If I were duke of this land I would rather have that song than a hundred florins, for there is no curse over us and over your land, but a benediction and heavenly dew, but over these nuns is a stern rebuke and the sign of their reformation. But we are few, being but our four selves, and the nuns are many. If they were to attack us with their distaffs and with stones hidden in their long sleeves, what should we do? Let us call in others to help.” Then the duke, going up alone to them said, “May what you sing be upon you and your bodies”; and to his servants who were standing with the nuns in the choir, he said, “come hither to us.”

The nuns followed the Duke and the servants, thinking that their chests and money boxes were going to be broken up, whereupon the Duke rebuked them, saying that if they and their noble friends and the Bishop of Minden opposed reform any longer, he would turn them off his lands. The nuns then asked to be allowed to take counsel with their friends and relatives, to which the Duke, on Busch’s intercession, unwillingly agreed. The friends accordingly came to a conference, but all they did was to repeat the nuns’ request in the same form, and they continued to do so after the Duke had given them two or three chances to reconsider the matter; whereupon he sent them away, and they rode off, followed by their shield-bearers. The Duke then ordered the gates of the house to be opened to Busch, but the nuns returned a message that the keys were lost. The Duke, on Busch’s authority, sent for several rustics and villeins, who brought a long bench and broke open the door. The reformers went up into the choir and there found the nuns, flat on their faces with arms out like a cross, and round them a circle of little wooden and stone images of saints, with a burning candle between each. Seeing that it was useless to resist, they approached the visitors, and the Duke addressed them, saying that if they would receive reform, he would keep them on his land, and if not carriages were ready to take them away for ever. The nuns begged him to “remove those monks from their necks,” when they would do his will, but the Duke replied that he did everything by the advice of Rutger and Busch.

The nuns then gave way and the reform was begun, after which the Duke and his followers rode away, leaving his councillor and notary with Busch. But at nightfall the nuns sent their praepositus to Busch, with the message: “My ladies the prioress and nuns say that they are not willing to serve as they promised, but they wish to remain as they were and are.” The Duke had to be sent for once more and eventually all the nuns submitted except one, who seems to have fallen into a fit, and the reform went on apace:

“Because we instructed them kindly and not austerely,” says Busch, “they said to us, ‘At first we thought that you would be very austere and unkind, but now we see that you are gentle as the angels of heaven. Now we have more faith in you than in the lord duke.’”

Busch’s troubles, however, were not over, for twice within the next few days he was attacked by armed men objecting to the new enclosure of the nuns, and only his native wit and conciliatory words saved him from a very dangerous situation[2145].

Almost equally difficult was the reform of Mariensee, where again the Bishop of Minden did all in his power to oppose reform, having (according to Busch) been bribed by the nuns to defend them. The Duke of Brunswick, however, forced the nuns to admit the reformers and forced the Bishop to send four emissaries to assist in carrying out the reform. These four prelates entered the house first to ask the nuns if they would consent to receive reform; but they refused, and one young woman tore off her veil and crown and casting them at the feet of the Bishop’s suffragan cried: “Always hitherto you have told me that I need not be reformed and now you want to compel me to be reformed. Behold your crown and veil! I will no longer be a nun.” The Bishop’s emissaries after this gave up their half-hearted attempt to reform the house and retired, leaving the field to Busch and his companions. The Duke then caused four carriages to be brought to the door, in which the rebellious nuns could be taken away, whereat the Abbess and the nuns climbed up into the vaults of the church and hid themselves there. The Duke ordered his servants to fetch ladders and place them against the roof and then to climb up and fetch down the nuns, but the prudent Busch prevented this, saying that the nuns would push over and kill the first who went up the ladder. Instead he went into the choir and, finding one nun still walking there, threatened her that unless the whole convent came down from the roof at once, they should be taken away in the carriages, “to-night you shall be in the Duke’s castle of Nyerstadt, tomorrow in his castle of Calenberg, and after that outside his lands, perchance never to return.” Whereupon the horrified nuns descended.

Then followed an amusing scene. All the nuns agreed to accept the new reforms, except one young woman, who refused:

“Then,” says Busch, “I said to the lord Duke, ‘This sister scorns obedience and contradicts everything.’ Whereupon, finding how perverse she was, he seized her and tried to draw her to the carriage. But when he had thrown his arms about her, she fell back flat on the ground, the Duke on the top of her, and the other nuns on the top of the Duke, each pushing the other on to him, so that the Duke could not raise himself from off her, especially as his arms were crushed beneath her scapular. And we, who saw him lying thus, stood away, waiting for the end of the business. At length he got one arm away from her, and with it pushed off the nuns who were lying upon him, hitting them and drawing blood from their arms, for he was a man and the nuns were like children, without strength and resistance.”

(This was the age of chivalry!) When he had got rid of these nuns he lifted the nun on whom he was lying, pulled his other arm free and sprang to his feet again, saying to the vassals and servants, who were standing round: “Why do you allow your liege lord thus to be trampled under foot by nuns?” One of them replied for all, “Gracious lord! we have ever stood by thee where the war engines were hurling their stones and the bows their arrows; only tell us what we are to do and we will willingly do it.” Then said he, “Whichever nun I seize, do you seize her too,” and they replied. “Willingly, gracious lord.” Whereupon the nuns gave in and professed themselves willing to be reformed. But they were still recalcitrant at heart, and when Busch, Rutger and the Duke were going away, they all began to sing the antiphon “Media vita” at the top of their voices and pursued the hapless reformers through the church, pelting them with burning candles. One girl followed them outside to the cemetery, chanted “Sancte deus, sancte, fortis, sancte et immortalis” three times and falling on her knees, bit the ground thrice in sign of a curse, and threw stones and earth after them. In the end, however, even this stormy convent was reduced to peace and reform, after three reformed nuns from Derneburg were brought in to teach them[2146].

Busch had almost as much difficulty with the nuns of Derneburg, an Austin house near Hildesheim, in which, as he says: “the nuns had long lived an irregular life, owning private property, and, according to public rumour, incontinent,” paying long visits outside their house as often as they pleased and performing only the minimum routine of monastic life. On one occasion, Busch tells us,

When I was taking their private possessions away from the nuns and placing them in the common stock, it happened that I was going through their cupboards and cellars, for several of them had a small cellar encircling the monastery, which was entered by three or four steps and had covered vaults, in which they kept their beer and other private allowances. They were showing me the cellars, and going down into them before me, and the last nun said to me: “Do you go first now, father, for my cellar is the same as those of the other sisters,” and without thinking I did so. But when I went down into it, she suddenly clapped to the door or vault over my head and stood upon it. I was shut up alone in there, thinking what would have happened if the nuns had shut me up there secretly; and I shouted to my brother, who was standing outside with them, bidding him cause them to open the door and let me out. At length after some delay they opened the trap-door of the cellar and let me come out. After that I was never willing to go first into any closed place in any nunnery, lest anything of the kind should happen, and lest I should be unable to get out easily. But when two or three preceded me, then I followed them. One only going in front did not suffice me, lest they should shut me up for some time alone with her and then spread tales about me. The sister who did this was good enough and very simple, whence I was astonished that she should think of such a thing.

It was while he was reforming this house, too, that he was attacked by several armed laymen, who took the part of the nuns. The nuns of Derneburg were never effectually reformed, although Busch gave himself the greatest trouble over them. At the end of three years they prevailed upon their friends and relatives in the neighbourhood to get rid of Busch and his brethren, and the nuns received Henry, Abbot of Marienrode, as their spiritual father and reformer instead. But they did not gain by the change, for he, being a Cistercian, introduced a nun of his own order as their prioress, and finally the Bishop of Hildesheim, the Abbot of Marienrode and other reformers came one morning to the house and, rebuking the nuns for their imperviousness to reform, made them come away in all their old clothes, leaving their books and possessions behind them, placed them in carriages and distributed them among other houses, where many were forced to become Cistercians. The house itself was turned into a Cistercian priory. “Thus,” says Busch, not without some satisfaction, “they lost the holy father St Augustine with me!”[2147]

The methods employed by Busch to carry out a reform were to undertake the initial stages himself and if necessary to obtain a few nuns from a previously reformed house to live in the convent and bring it to right discipline. He always began by hearing the confessions of the nuns, which often caused considerable fluttering in the convent. At St George, near Halle, he found that the convent was subordinated to the monastery of Zinna, and received its confessor from that house, which Busch decided to alter, for the Abbot of Zinna was impeding his reforms. He therefore bade the Abbess send the sisters to confess to him, but she replied:

“The sisters dare not confess to you by reason of the apostolic mandate and the abbot of Zinna and our own confessor, who comes from him.”

Then Busch said:

“Because I have authority to do so, say to them: the confessor is sitting in the church, in front of the window, where you are wont to confess, so you may go there and confess.” Then the prioress or eldest of the sisters came to the window and confessed fully to me ... and when she had finished I said, “Sister, have you more to say?” Whereat she cried in alarm, “Are you the provost of the Neuwerk?” I answered, “Even so.” “Then have I confessed to the provost?” “Yea.” “What now shall I do and say?” I replied, “Be silent and tell no one that I have heard your confession, so that the others may come to confess, otherwise you will be the only one to have confessed to me.” She did so and receiving absolution left me, telling no one that she had confessed to me.

After that each nun who came received the same advice, until all had confessed[2148].

At Derneburg the nuns were afraid to come and confess for another reason. There was current in the taverns and dining halls of the whole country side a tale of the terrible penance imposed by Busch upon a brother of his monastery of SÜlte, who took a larger draught of drink from the drinking cup than Busch thought seemly, whereupon he was said to have caused the unfortunate man to lie for three hours before the dining table in the frater, with his mouth stretched open by a large horse-bone; and when one of the brothers burst out laughing at the sight, Busch was said to have thrown the drinking cup in his face. The weeping nuns informed him between their sobs: “We are virgins and maids, we cannot do such a great penance for such a little fault.” Busch was obliged to assure them that the whole tale was a fabrication[2149]. At Escherde he had the same difficulty.

The frightened nuns were afraid to confess to me, because they had heard that I was wont to inflict very severe penances, which was not true, as I afterwards told them. Then their praepositus said to them: “The bishop’s mandate orders you to confess to him under pain of excommunication and if you refuse then you will be under an interdict. My good ladies, I counsel you to confess to him. I will place beside him my servant with a drawn sword and if he says one bad or harsh word to you it shall cleave his head.” When they saw and heard that they could not escape they consented to confess to me, but they sent before them first one bold nun in order to beard me. Seated in the confessional, she began, “Sir, what do you here?” I answered, “I lead you all to the kingdom of heaven.”... Half the nuns confessed to me that day. To the third of them I said, “Sister, am I as harsh as you said I was?” and she replied, “You are a man of gold, gentle and kind beyond all things.” In the evening, when we were supping I said to the praepositus: “What are your nuns saying about me? Am I as severe as they thought?” He replied, “When it was their turn to go to confession, the hair of their heads stood on end, but when they came away from you, they returned in great consolation.” The next day I finished the others before dinner, and towards the end I asked one of them. “Am I as hard and severe as you heard?” and she replied, “Now you are honey-tongued. But when you have got our consent and have tied a rope to our horns to drag us along, then you will say to us: You must and shall do all that I desire.” I answered her, “Beloved sister, fear not, for I shall always remain kind and benign towards you”[2150].

Besides confessing the nuns Busch and his fellow visitors went through the conventual routine with them, showing them how they ought to perform divine service, to behave in the frater and to hold chapters. The most efficacious means of reform employed, however, was to send for some reformed nuns from another convent, to dwell in the newly reformed house. Nuns of the order of Mary Magdalen in Hildesheim went to Heiningen, Stederburg, Frankenburg, and the White Ladies of Magdeburg. Fischbeck was reformed by nuns of the Windesheim order. Marienberg was reformed by nuns of Bronopia and in its turn sent reformers to Marienborn and Stendal, where nuns of Dorstadt had already made reforms, from which the original members soon fell away. Two nuns and a conversa were sent from Heiningen to the Holy Cross at Erfurt and the Abbess and four nuns of Derneburg went to Weinhausen[2151]. The newcomers were usually gladly lent and graciously received in their new homes; sometimes they remained and held office in the latter and sometimes they returned to their own houses, when the reform was firmly rooted. The tale of the reform of Marienberg is charming[2152]. Busch, with the consent of the chapter-general of the congregation of Windesheim, took from Bronopia two nuns, Ida and Tecla and a lay sister Aleidis, who for his sake and for the sake of the good work left their own country and their noble friends and relatives, and made a long and sometimes dangerous journey with Busch across Westphalia and Saxony to Helmstedt. Here they were joyfully received. Ida was made subprioress to introduce reforms and to order all the internal discipline of the house; Tecla, who was a learned lady, was made governess of the novices, teaching them to sing and to read Latin and “to write letters and missives in a masterly manner, in good Latin, as I have seen and examined with my eyes.” Aleidis was made mistress of the conversi.

For three years these nuns dwelt at Helmstedt, beloved of all and bringing the place to excellent order. Then Tecla fell ill. The Prioress sent for Busch:

and I came and found her sitting in the infirmary and ordered her to be bled and to receive suitable medicine. And when I had remained there for two or three days I decided to go away without taking them and I bade them farewell at eventide;

for Busch had decided that it was time for the sisters to return to Bronopia:

After this the proctress of the house came to me, saying: “Beloved father! Sister Tecla is asking for you with tears, for she says she will never see you again. I beseech you that you will go and speak to her once again tomorrow, before you leave.” I answered, “Willingly, for she is my dear sister and for God’s sake and mine she left all her rich friends and her own country and followed me to this strange and distant land.” The next day, therefore, I visited her in her bed, in the presence of Ida and Aleidis. Then she was better and was well content that I should go away and soon she recovered altogether from that illness.

Shortly afterwards Busch took the three nuns with him and they set off to drive back to Bronopia, staying at various monastic houses on the way; and the nuns of Helmstedt all the time sent messengers after them, with letters assuring the three sisters of their love and sorrow. The journey was at length completed without any accident, except that fat sister Ida tumbled into a cellar at Wittenberg and hurt her leg, so that Busch had to carry her into the carriage.

To his account of this episode Busch subjoins four letters, one from himself, one from the prioress and stewardess of Helmstedt to the three sisters, one from the young scholars of the house to their mistress Tecla, and the reply of the three sisters to the convent and of Tecla to her scholars[2153]. In the Prioress’ letter there is a vivid description of the sorrow of the nuns at the departure of their three visitors:

Our sister Geseke Zeelde wept most tearfully and could not go into the workroom, so grieved she after sister Aleydis. Sister Mettike Guestyn was so miserable that she could not eat or drink. When I went into the kitchen sister Tryneke wept so much that all who were with her in the kitchen wept too and said: “O wi, now has our leader gone away!” When sister Elyzabeth Cyriaci began the office of the mass, she sang it so dolefully through her tears, that she could hardly sing. When she had to begin the ‘Benedictus’ after the ‘Sanctus’ she burst out crying, so that she could not sing at all, but sister Elyzabeth Broysen had to go on with it and she could hardly finish it. Geseke Obrecht and Heylewich the chantress are very sorrowful, because they did not say goodbye to you, for they did not know you were going so early. They now send you as many good wishes as there are sands in the sea. When the scholars come to school on Sunday, we cannot describe to you how many tears are shed there. The stewardess and I have to console the other sisters, but we are the rather in need of someone to console us. When we look on your places in choir and frater and dorter, then we grow sad and weep, saying, “O God, if only Bronopia were where Heiningen is, five miles away from us, then we might often visit each other, which now we cannot do, for we are forty miles away. We are as it were dead to each other at the two ends of the earth.” We have many other things to write to you, but because it is the middle of the night, we must separate and go to matins. Dearest sisters, we give you deepest thanks for all the good you have done for us, in spiritual and in temporal matters. God speed you a thousand times, in Jesus’ name.... As many as there are pearls, as many as there are planets in the heaven, as many as there are ends to the earth, so many godspeeds send we to you[2154].

The letter of the little novices to sister Tecla deserves quotation, to show their progress under her tuition:

Ihesum pium consolatorem merentium pro salute! Notum facimus charitati vestre, charissima soror Tecla magistra nostra, quod nos omnes scholares vestre in magna sumus tristitia et dolore de vestro a nobis recessu. Non enim possumus oblivisci presentiam vestram, sed cotidie querimus vos, et dum non invenimus, tunc contristamur et dolemus. Vix potestis credere, quanta tristitia et quantus dolor est in claustro nostro de vestra absentia tam de senioribus quam de iunioribus. Quapropter petimus cordintime, sicut amplius non sumus nos invicem visure in hac mortali vita, ut oretis pro nobis deum, ut taliter vivamus in hoc seculo, ut nos invicem videre valeamus in conspectu sancte Trinitatis. Valete, soror dilectissima, cum charissimis sororibus vestris Ida et Aleide in domino semper! Et deus omnipotens omnem tribulationem et angustiam a vobis removeat et vestram sanctitatem conservet tempora per eterna, Amen[2155].

It is a pretty picture of affection and concord, which is given by these letters, and may well be set against the pictures of conventual bickering, which are too often to be found in visitation reports.

Busch’s reforms seem to have been very successful. He often mentions that such and such a house remained in a good state of reform for such and such a number of years, or up to the day on which he wrote. Sometimes he describes reforming prioresses or other nuns, who did good work in their houses[2156]; sometimes also he mentions the assistance given by a wise confessor or custos. His only real failure seems to have been Derneburg; this house withstood both his efforts (for three years he had acted as confessor, walking two miles before breakfast to confess the nuns before communion) and those of the Cistercian abbot of Marienrode, who had been their benefactor for over 300 florins; and Busch quotes rather bitterly the proverb current in Germany:

Gratia nulla perit, nisi gratia sola sororum.
Sic fuit, est et erit: ‘ondanc’ in fine laborum[2157].

But he seldom got ondanc at the end of his work; and when his life drew to a close he could look back on hundreds of monks and nuns not only reformed by him, but also cherishing for him the greatest gratitude and affection. His was a large and humane spirit, and for all his zeal for reform and his reputation for sternness, it is plain that he had that greatest of gifts, the capacity to win the hearts of men.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Clyx.com


Top of Page
Top of Page