The Black Death
While Arnold was staying at the monastery and approaching young manhood,
a terrible calamity visited the world and made its way into the peaceful
little valley. Year after year reports had come that a frightful
pestilence was raging in the eastern part of Asia and spreading from
country to country. Ships laden with rich cargoes were found at sea,
drifting about and their crews all dead.
The trade route from China led through central Asia to the Tauric
coast,[10] whence the products of the Orient were transported to
Constantinople, at that time the emporium for the three divisions of the
earth. Over this route the plague spread into all lands. The terrible
disease first appeared in Europe in the maritime cities of Italy,
France, and Spain, and in the course of three years gradually but surely
spread all over central Europe, Poland, and Russia, climbed the chalk
cliffs of England, and ascended to the extreme northern part of
Scandinavia. It was attended by strange manifestations, unknown up to
that time, such as cramps, heart palpitation, lethargy, and in some
cases delirium. Swellings as large as eggs appeared under the arms and
knees. Black or blue spots came on various parts of the body, sometimes
large and single, sometimes in small groups. At first it was denied that
the disease was a pestilence, but when the strange malady spread so
rapidly it was recognized as an actual pestilence. There was no other
name for it.
Several causes were assigned for it. It was variously attributed to the
just wrath of God at the wickedness of humanity; to the influences of
the heavenly bodies; to the conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter; to
unusual convulsions of nature which had either preceded or followed it.
Reports had long before come from China of great earthquakes, sunken
mountains, droughts, floods, crop failures, and subsequent famines.
Syria and Egypt also had been visited by earthquakes. The same
manifestations, followed by raging storms and floods, had also appeared
in Cyprus and in Naples and other cities. Similar convulsions had been
experienced in Germany. Many houses had been hurled into the Rhine by a
great earthquake at Basle. In Carinthia, cities and castles had been
destroyed. As the excited imagination of the people connected these
events with the dreadful disease, it was natural for them to consider
these manifestations as the cause, and crop failures and famines as the
result. The pestilence, which so readily found victims among people
condemned to want, wretchedness, and despair, came to be known as the
Black Death. When it attacked a household it was not contented with one
victim. Almost every well person who breathed the same air as the sick
one, or who had even touched his clothing, was stricken with it. Human
science and medical skill were of no avail. It was in vain that cities
were cleansed of filth and offal, and that infected persons were
forbidden to enter them. Sanitary measures were of no avail. Flight was
useless, for the terrible malady overtook the fleetest and spared
neither the distinguished nor the insignificant, neither the strong nor
the weak, neither the layman nor the priest. It was in vain that the
church framed three prayers, to be offered at daybreak, midday, and
evening, at the summons of the church bells. The mass which Pope Clemens
the Sixth, who resided at Avignon, arranged for the supplication of
divine mercy was fruitless. The head of Christendom himself withdrew
from contact with the outside world, behind a perpetually burning fire
of coals. Ceremonial processions were also arranged to avert the evil.
The people joined them in multitudes. Many women walked barefooted, clad
in sackcloth. Ecclesiastics, brotherhoods carrying lighted tapers, and
guilds bearing banners and singing prayers and the litany also marched.
Suddenly it was discovered that the number of victims was increasing
because of the densely crowded throngs watching these processions. In
the large cities people died by hundreds; in the smaller ones, by
scores. The closest family ties were dissipated like spiders’ webs.
Brothers forsook brothers, wives their husbands. Parents forbore
visiting their sick children. The best of friends avoided each other on
the streets.
The sick were deserted save by their attendants, and the service of the
latter was so difficult to procure, except at very high prices,—for
nurses’ lives were in constant danger,—that many of the poor died
absolutely alone. Depositing the dead in the church vaults and keeping
them over night in the houses where they had died were strictly
forbidden. It was ordered that they should be interred at once; and as
the churchyards in the cities were not large enough to accommodate them,
they were buried by thousands in great trenches. Every one expected the
Black Death any moment. Trade and commerce were paralyzed. Merchants
cared no longer for the valuables for which they had worked so hard;
churches and schools were closed; the administration of justice ceased.
There were no sounds in the factories, no rattle of carriages or cries
of venders in the streets. The fields were left untilled. There was
hardly one among the few who stole through the empty streets who did not
show some sign of the awful visitation. Fear, sorrow, and despair were
manifest in every face. If one wore a beard it was unkempt and the hair
was long and straggling, for no one cared for his looks. Some held small
metallic discs containing medicated sponges to their noses, hoping in
this way not to inhale the tainted air. The few who recovered from the
plague were regarded as a specially privileged class. They went about
freely and fearlessly amid dangers, for it was something unheard of to
have the disease twice. But among those who were liable to be attacked
any instant there were some who were determined to do all they could at
this time of universal gloom. Compassion and love were stronger in their
hearts than ever before, and wherever they could be of help they were
ready with word and deed.
The plague invaded Switzerland also, and raged more violently in its
mountain regions than it did in the lowlands. The clear, healthy
atmosphere of the high lying valley of Engelberg did not save it from
the visitation of this gruesome guest, but it only met faces full of
spiritual illumination in the death shadows which followed its track.
Strengthened by holy love and despising danger, the Benedictines went
among the sick and those struggling with death, to help the one and
administer consolation to the other. Upon this small spot of earth the
plague carried off sixteen victims in a single day and in four months
twenty homes were devastated.
No one in those days of gloom and despair set a brighter example of
courage and self-sacrificing love than Father Vincentius. It had always
been his desire to give his life for his neighbors, and now the
opportunity was granted him. Wherever there was sickness he was found
performing every needful service; and Arnold, a faithful, courageous
helper, was by his side. The youth had nothing more to lose, for both
his parents were victims of the plague. He had closed the eyes of his
uncle Berthold, abbot of Engelberg, after his two sisters, Adelheid and
Elspeth, had passed away. Amid these dreadful scenes he had no other
feeling than one of the deepest sympathy for those whom he visited
daily; and death, even in its most terrible shapes, had no terrors for
him. It was thus he strengthened himself for the heroic deed which was
to perpetuate the name of Winkelried in the memory of the fatherland.
Side by side with Father Vincentius he encountered the plague and often
wondered why he kept so strong and well. He endured these extraordinary
exertions, which kept him up day and night, because of his youthful
vigor; but the old Benedictine felt his strength failing more and more
every day. His once upright frame was bowed and his face grew thin and
sunken. Spiritual strength alone sustained his exhausted body.
While returning to the monastery one evening with Arnold, he felt a
depression, weariness in his feet, and difficulty in breathing, which he
attributed to the day’s exertions. In the night he was visited by
unpleasant dreams. In one of these he fancied he was in a great crowd of
men with gray, faded, sightless faces. As they pressed against him, his
nearest neighbor pushed his elbow into his side causing such a stinging
pain that he awoke. His heart was beating violently. There was a ringing
in his ears, severe pain in his limbs, and his whole body seemed on
fire. He placed his hand upon the stinging spot—there was a great
swelling!
Father Vincentius was not alarmed. “The Lord calls me,” he murmured, and
clasped his hands in prayer.
When Arnold entered his cell the next morning and found him in bed, he
recognized the signs of the disease the instant he saw him. He knew, as
well as any physician, the remedies which should be given and he applied
them all. With quiet resignation the monk awaited dissolution; but as
the disease was making rapid progress, it became necessary for him to
speak at once so that he should be clearly understood.
“Praised be the Lord for his justice! Praised be the Lord in healing as
in death,” he said to himself. Then, turning to Arnold, he continued:
“Many are called, but few are chosen. God has sent the Black Death to
mankind to reserve a chosen few among its survivors who shall grow
better by sorrow and nobler by gratitude, and find to their great joy
what an inestimable boon life is. Devote it to good works and offer them
to Him. You have learned this, my son. You have accomplished it. May God
graciously guide you with His strong hand through these troubles, so
that the lofty purpose and noble courage which you have displayed so
splendidly in this narrow sphere of action may be devoted hereafter to
the welfare of your fatherland. It needs just such men as you have
already shown yourself to be.” Father Vincentius then gave Arnold his
blessing and asked for the last sacrament which was administered by one
of the brothers of the order.
Toward evening his sufferings ended, and that night the stars shone upon
his grave, where Arnold lamented the last dear friend he had. But he
must live on. So he still breathed the tainted air, still waited upon
the sick, still placed the dead in their coffins; but the plague did not
attack him. None of the brothers except his uncle and Father Vincentius
died, but five students fell victims, and one hundred and sixty nuns
were carried from the women’s cloisters to the grave in four months.
One day a young wanderer called at the monastery and begged for
breakfast and a little money. It was Florian Häbli, Arnold’s old-time
playmate. His father, mother, and sisters had perished, and the orphan
was forced out into the world to look out for himself.
We have not yet reached the close of these terrible scenes. As if
victims of the plague itself were too few, the despised and hated Jews,
who lived near the Christians in the large cities, were accused by
superstitious persons of poisoning the water in order to spread the
plague and exterminate their enemies. These accusations were all the
more readily believed when it was noticed that the Jews abstained from
water and were less liable to take the disease than the Christians. It
mattered not to their accusers that it was the Jews’ foresight which led
them to avoid drinking water and that their greater moderation in living
helped to protect them. And yet so many Jews died in Goslar and Vienna
that their burial places were insufficient, and in cities like Leipsic
and Magdeburg where no Jews resided the plague was as fatal as in other
places. The popular clamor, however, increased. City authorities who
harbored Jews were urged to adopt most cruel measures. The Jews were
placed upon the rack and forced to confess crimes of which they were not
guilty, and were banished from cities after their property had been
confiscated. And this was not the worst. Every appeal of humanity was
stifled by the unchristian and bitter hatred of the people. Only a few
escaped with the penalty of exile and loss of property. Very many must
have perished by fire. In almost all the Rhine cities and in some others
also, not only in Germany but in neighboring countries, they were burned
without trial or even examination. In utter despair they submitted to
their terrible fate and even anticipated it. Six thousand Jews burned
themselves in their own houses; and at Esslingen, Worms, and Speier they
assembled in their synagogues and then fired them.
Still the plague did not cease, and the people soon decided that it was
not caused by human agencies. The conviction became universal that it
was the divine penalty for the prevailing immorality. Reconciliation
with God became the watchword. It must be secured by expiation. The
better classes sought for it by adopting a pious course of life. Parents
taught their children to pray and to submit to the divine will. Others
sought to propitiate God with gifts to the Church. Many others believed
that the sins of their past wanton lives could be atoned for by physical
suffering only, and castigated themselves relentlessly. This gave rise
to the brotherhood of the Flagellants. They increased by hundreds and
thousands all over Germany, and each brotherhood had its own head and
regulations. One of these marched behind a cross. A red cross was also
fastened upon the cloak and the hat of each Flagellant, and at his side
hung the scourge—a short stick, with three stout thongs tied at the ends
in a hard knot, in which were inserted two sharp iron prongs set
crosswise. When the procession approached any place several Flagellants
with showy banners of costly purple velvet or embroidered silk, waxen
tapers flickering among them, assembled behind the cross-bearer. The
rest marched two by two, with hats pulled down and looking before them
silently and sorrowfully. Singing expiatory songs, they entered the
place, greeted and accompanied by the tolls of the church bells. Great
crowds of serious-faced persons followed the strange procession to the
church, where the Flagellants prostrated themselves several times before
the altar. On the next morning they formed their procession in the same
order as on the day before and, followed by all the people, marched to
the place of scourging. There they took off their shoes and removed
their outer garments, leaving the upper part of the body nude. Then they
advanced in the shape of a wide cross and prostrated themselves. Each
one announced the offence for which he desired to make expiation. The
perjurers rested upon one side, with three fingers raised above the
head; liars stretched their hands out before them; drunkards placed
their hands upon their mouths. Those who were not guilty of any
particular offence lay with their arms outstretched on the ground in the
shape of a cross. Then the leader, or master, arose, made a short
address, and struck each with the scourge. The brothers arose in turn
and imitated the master. The best singers then advanced, and while they
sang with subdued voices, the Flagellants lashed each other with the
iron thongs until blood streamed down their backs.
In the meantime the thousands of spectators stood in a profound silence,
broken only by occasional sighs or loud weeping. Others imitated what
they saw; and then followed the reading of a document which was said to
be a direct message from God to sinful humanity. The Flagellants seldom
left a place without gaining new members. A hundred of them went from
Basle to Avignon and scourged themselves in the presence of the Pope. He
did not believe, however, that God was pleased with such acts, and
issued a bull forbidding Christians to perform flagellation in public,
under penalty of excommunication.
Neither Jewish persecutions nor flagellation were of any avail in
checking the plague. It spread through the terrified world. A fourth
part of the population of Europe perished. After it subsided, the old
worldly pleasures were resumed above those countless graves; but there
were many who, in those terrible years of trial, had returned to the
divine allegiance, and who consecrated the precious gift of life to that
exercise of Christian love which Father Vincentius, before his
departure, characterized as the noblest fruit of the divine justice.